


The Lady and the Devil

by TypeSomeSenseToMe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Chapter 19 smut happens, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I'll make it worth your while, Inspired by Lynn Kurland THIS IS ALL I ASK, Kylo Ren is Lord AssCabbage, Miscommunication, Physical Abuse, Rated E for later chapters, Slow Romance, Somewhat Historically Accurate but is it tho, Star Wars Medieval AU, Swords, Talk of heirs, a bit of whimsy, big scary knights with big soft hearts, for fun, it's a slow burn afterall, medieval hardships, medieval swearing and curses, that means babymaking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 64,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28539423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TypeSomeSenseToMe/pseuds/TypeSomeSenseToMe
Summary: Rey of Niima has been sold off by her abusive stepfather, Lord Plutt, to someone with an even more evil reputation. Lord Ren, the Devil of Exegol, is dealing with his own demons, and Rey comes to find out that he's just as scarred mentally as she is scarred physically.Can the two make the most of their match?
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey
Comments: 882
Kudos: 830
Collections: Ijustfellintothissendhelp, Power imbalances (f/m)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

A long time ago, in a kingdom far, far away…

It was forbidden for Rey of Niima to practice with her wooden sword. In the poorly tended garden of her stepfather’s keep, she rammed the tip of the sword into the gullet of an unfortunately placed sapling. She meant the sapling no harm, but it was the same height as her stepfather, Lord Unkar Plutt.

The target of the tip of her sword was always through Unkar’s heart.

She thrust and parried and kept her stance strong like her stepbrother Finn had taught her.

Satisfied that she’d killed her imaginary foe, she wiped the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her dress and hid the sword in the folds of her skirts as she picked her way back into the dank keep.

Several lazy scullery maids lounged by the heat of the fire in the great stone hearth. Rey would have avoided them completely but their conversation halted her silent steps over the filthy rushes.

“The master is planning to ship that poor, homely girl off to the Devil. Make no mistake.”

“Oh, what ‘ave ye heard now, Eunice? Someone made an offer? For a face like ‘ers?”

Rey frowned and cracked her teeth together. Her ugliness was a constant topic of conversation between the house staff. She made a conscious effort to not raise her hand and touch the scars on her face. The scars weren’t her fault.

“Who, then? Spit it out,” the youngest maid demanded.

“Who else? The _Devil of Exeghoul.”_

They all shuddered together and crossed themselves. Rey felt a chill race down her spine. She eased closer to hear more of their gossip. The maids were always cruel to her, so she dared not draw their attention.

“Oy, I heard he was born with a full set of sharp teeth. Bloodthirsty from the very first.”

“He killed his wife, he did.”

“No! What’s this, then?”

“The man, nay, beast, has horns. Eyes as red as blood. ‘Tis said he sacrificed his lady wife to the Devil.”

Rey gasped. She’d never been outside the walls of Niima keep. She could well imagine the countryside filled with all manner of witches and warlocks who practiced their dark arts on the innocent. Finn had told her stories of such. He would never have strung her along with lies.

“He never leaves his black keep, I’ve been told. He weaves his black magics in his tower all hours of the night.”

“Why won’t he leave, then?”

“Horns, Tully! Haven’t ye been listening?”

“Oh,” Tully moaned and shuddered.

“A monster. I’d be pissin’ meself should I find meself in the same path of such a one as he. Who in all the land would face the Devil?”

“‘Tisn’t any children left in his village. Lord Ren eats ‘em.”

Rey stepped back in horror, dropping her wooden sword.

The maids whipped their heads in her direction. Each fled the hall into the kitchens.

Rey watched after them, mouth still open in shock. Lord Ren? She had heard of the monster of the black hills of Exegol.

“Lady Rey, Lord Plutt is waiting.”

She whirled around to find her stepfather’s steward had snuck up behind her. She was still sweaty from her exhertions in the garden. She could go change, but that would only make things worse. If her stepfather was already waiting, he was already angry.

She snapped the wooden sword up from the rushes and stood to her full height. She was taller than all the maids. Another fault they found with her. Walking behind the steward, she tried to control her trembling. Hands sweating, knees weak, they went straight to the solar where Plutt conducted his business.

Rey propped the sword against the wall as her pulse throbbed in her ears. It was times like these she especially missed Finn. Finn would have protected her from Plutt. She smoothed her dress and stepped inside.

It took her a few tries before she could get her voice to work. “You… You sent for me, my lord?”

Unkar of Plutt was tall and heavyset. He was a battle-hardened man who’d proved his mettle time after time across the blood-soaked soil of every surrounding province.

Rey moved her hands behind her back to hide her sweat-stained sleeves as he inspected her. She wished she had taken the time to scrape the mud from her boots. Her dress was old, but it was all she was allowed. Her brown hair had taken to being unruly, never staying in a simple plait. It fell lifeless and dull around her thin shoulders.

“What a disappointing sight you are.”

What little starch Rey had left bled out of her.

“How many times must I tell you to stay out of the lists? Do you need reminding again?” Her stepfather’s eyes flicked to the rod he kept by his chair. She didn’t need reminding. She’d suffered its sting time and time again.

“I vow I did not go to the lists,” she breathed.

“I’ll not stand the bloody mouth on you, girl,” he raged.

Before she could bring her hand up in defense, Plutt grabbed the rod and hit her across her face.

Rey fell to her knees and covered her head against another attack.

“My lord,” the steward interrupted. “Perhaps now is not the time.”

Plutt threw the rod against the far wall, the clashing sound made her jolt in fright. She hesitantly raised her head and peeked up at her stepfather. He was glaring at his steward.

“Show the blighter in. I’ll have to teach her another lesson about respect once he’s gone from my sight.”

Rey crawled to a corner, out of the way and out from under the notice of her stepfather. She dabbed at her cheek, blotting away the drops of blood that had beaded along the stinging cut. She didn’t cry. Wouldn’t cry. Weeping only angered Plutt more. What good were tears? They didn’t help the pain. They didn’t stop the beatings.

Perhaps her lot was like any other in the province. She had been the daughter of a minor lord who had remarried, and shortly thereafter died. She became the ward of her stepmother, who thereafter married Plutt, only to die and leave her in wretched Niima with a wretched stepfather who seemed to hate her.

No matter. Rey hated Plutt just as fiercely.

She was a true orphan. The bright spot in her life had been her stepbrother Finn. He had always cared for her. Taught her things. Protected her.

She wished she could have gone warring with Finn when he’d left all those years ago.

Surely other maids weren’t treated thusly. Perhaps they were more brave than Rey. She used to beg and plead when Plutt beat her. Cry and beg. But he would only ever see her humiliated and in pain.

Finn had done his utmost to keep her from harm. The times he’d been home, he taught her how to use her sword. And he’d given her the greatest gift, a perfectly wrought sword, sharp and light, so that she could wield it easily. She’d once sliced the tail off one of Plutt’s noisy hounds, by accident, of course.

Her true sword was buried away at the bottom of her trunk. Her brother was buried in the chapel of Niima keep. He could not save her.

She knew she was in for more pain once this so-called blighter left the room. She knew she shouldn’t have gone out to practice her swordplay.

The door to the solar ricocheted off the wall with a thunderous clap as a giant man stomped inside. He was outfitted in sculpted leather armor. A warrior. Prepared for battle. Rey would have given her soul to have a shirt of mail for herself.

The giant man made a short bow to her stepfather.

“Lord Plutt. Greetings from Lord Ren. He has sent me in his stead to make certain all was ready.”

Rey shrunk against the wall and held her breath. The monster of Exegol? Why was he sending greetings and a man in his stead?

Plutt snorted. “Where is the man himself? I’ll not be pawned off on one of his hirelings. He wants a deal, we deal face to face.”

The man’s dark visage cracked open showing a glimmer of teeth. “My lord Plutt, I am Vicrul of Abraxas. I am no man’s hireling.”

Rey froze. She didn’t know much, but of this man’s reputation, she was certain. Vicrul of Abraxas was known for his violence and cruelty throughout the known provinces. Finn had told her the bloody tales of this man’s lack of patience and the way he would murder if only even mildy offended. Seeing Sir Vicrul in the flesh removed all doubt that the tales were true.

Plutt snorted in derision. “Lord Ren insults me by not coming himself.”

Vicrul’s smile grew cruel and Rey cowered closer to the wall, certain outright war was about to begin.

“It is my understanding that you have no other offers for the girl,” Vicrul growled. “She has reached an age when other maids have already wed and birthed heirs. Perhaps you should consider a moment. You must be well nigh chomping to be rid of her. My lord has accepted your laughable offer and her paltry dowry. Fetter your pride, Lord Plutt. There are other maidens, with better offerings than hers.”

Rey so desperately wanted to draw breath, but the pain was too great. She was to be wed.

God help her. Her stepfather planned to marry her off to the Devil of Exegol.

“Please,” she whispered, rising unsteadily. “My lord, nay!” She flung herself at Plutt’s feet, overcome with terror at the prospect of being joined to one such as Lord Ren. Terror that overshadowed her fear of Plutt. She would marry anyone. Anyone at all. Anyone but Lord Ren. He had horns. He ate children. He danced under the moon as he worshipped the darkness.

“Please,” she entreated once more. “I beg you—”

“Cease, wench,” Plutt roared, sending her sprawling with a slap across her already-pained face.

She rolled up tight, preparing for another blow. She screamed in terror as hands grabbed her and hauled her to her feet.

Rey felt herself being gathered tightly into someone’s arms. Sheltered next to an immense chest. It wasn’t Plutt’s chest.

“Hush, now,” a deep voice intoned. “I’ve not the time nor the stomach for hysterical women.”

Rey recoiled as much as she could. But a strong arm kept her in place. She’d never been held thusly. Vicrul’s reputation was only slightly less colorful than the Lord Ren’s, but he smelled powerful bad.

“She will come with me now. The banns have been read. She will wed Lord Ren in a week’s time.”

Rey bowed her head and cried out to God in silent prayer. _Please. Not this. Not this man._

“You dog-swiving son of a mongrel. Mighty bold of you to step into my domain and lay claim where you’ve no right. I’ve a good thought in my head to change my mind.”

“That so?” Vicrul laughed. “In one transaction, you rid yourself of a daughter and gain a powerful ally in her husband. Methinks you lie.”

“Get out,” Plutt spit. “Take that ugly wench with you. I can stand the sight of her no longer.”

Rey was too terrified to say anything, too nauseated by Vicrul’s stench to speak. She held her breath as he swept her up into his stout arms and carried her away from Plutt.

“Direct me to your chamber, my lady,” Vicrul grumbled.

It was difficult to find her tongue. She looked longingly at the wooden sword left behind at the door to her stepfather’s solar. But a toy like that wouldn’t aid her where she was going. Only enchanted steel would slay a warlock. Or was it silver? She couldn’t keep all the tales straight to remember.

Plutt’s steward gave Vicrul directions up the narrow stairs to her tower chamber. A small, stale place where she had spent most of her time.

Vicrul set her down and said, “Pack up only what you can carry on horseback. You will be provided for once you reach your betrothed’s keep.”

Betrothed? The horned Monster of Exegol? The Devil of the Black Keep? The Scourge of Alderaan, Destroyer of Crait? She knew the grim stories.

She had also heard that his wife was driven mad and that he’d killed her. Buried her outside the sanctity of the church. Lord Ren was known to take the shape of a wolf, stalking the provinces at night, ripping the throats of innocent victims and livestock. He practiced dark deeds in his tower chamber deep into the night.

All had to be true. Finn had brought her tales of witches and magic and shapeshifters. It was easy to believe the stories passed among the kitchen maids. The stories of Lord Ren’s cruelty. She feared him more than her stepfather.

_Better the devil ye know…_

Despair like she’d never experienced before befell her. Perhaps her sharp sword would service her all too well if she were to fall upon it and…

A great, smelly hand grabbed her chin and forced her eyes up. She flinched as she peered up into Vicrul’s uncompromising visage. All who crossed paths with this man had right to fear him. There was no mercy to be found for her in his eyes.

“That cut is not deep,” he mused. “I’d have struck down the pox-filled windbag meself, but then my lord wouldn’t have that pleasure.” He released her. “Get your things and let us be well away from this slovenly hovel. We have a long, hard, ride to Exegol, and the day is half gone.”

Rey puzzled over all his words, surprised that he’d looked on her face without recoiling. Had he… would he have taken to her side to fend off Plutt’s attack? No one else in the keep had ever come to her aid.

“Hear me now, girl. I’ve not come to fluff your pillows nor shine your boots. Your lord has sold you to the only buyer and that’s the end of the matter. Pack your belongings and let us be gone from here while my disposition is still pleasant.”

Rey hoped she never crossed paths with him when his mood was bad. She mourned over her fate. She knew that Plutt had never cared for her, but to sell her to the Devil of Exegol? 

Was her fate sealed over completely? Perhaps she could run away. On the journey, she may be able to slip away undetected. Plutt’s guards had made it impossible for her to ever leave the keep. Perchance this journey would give her an opportunity she’d never before had to make an escape.

Her thoughts were tumultuous as she opened her trunk. She would make her escape and she would need the right clothing to do so. Her two gowns had tears on the backs. They hadn’t survived Plutt’s beatings, even though she had. She shoved them aside, hoping Vicrul hadn’t seen them. She took out tunics and hose. She’d fashioned Finn’s castoffs to fit her own frame. All were patched over and mended, looking quite beggarly. Should she make her escape, she could beg a few meals and make her journey to Coruscant. She could seek aid from the king.

Would she be able to make the journey to Coruscant in a few days? She had no idea how large the provinces were. Plutt had been too ashamed of her to let her outside the walls of Niima.

Finn had taught her how to read the stars. She could find her way south watching the position of the sun. She would go there and she would find the king. He would aid her, would he not? She was Plutt’s only heir, such as she was.

She pulled her sword from the bottom of her trunk, keeping it hidden in a tunic. But it was jerked from her grasp in an instant.

“What be this?” Vicrul laughed.

“‘Tis mine, you thief!” she cried, trying unsuccessfully to take it back into her possession.

Vicrul held it just out of her reach. “What need have you of a sword, my lady? You shall be safe enough with me.”

“Give it back, you… you unwashed knave!”

Vicrul’s expression darkened dangerously and she knew she’d made a grave mistake. She’d survived Plutt’s thrashings, she wasn’t so sure she’d survive a bout with Vicrul’s fists. Her next move was anchored on her certainty that she was about to die. She viciously brought up her knee and delivered a blow to Vicrul’s groin.

He dropped her sword as he doubled over with a strained grunt. Rey wasted no time going for the sword and unsheathing it from the tunic. She stepped back and pointed the sharp end at Vicrul’s red face.

“I’ll… I’ll prune you like a t-tree. You shall feel the st-sting of my blade.”

“Pox rot you,” he ground out, reaching for the sword.

Rey backed away, falling over her gown. She fell hard on her backside and the sword knocked away from her hand. She whimpered knowing she’d erred most gravely. She did the only thing she could do, she covered her head and waited for the beating to begin.

“Pick up your sword, my lady,” Vicrul growled. “We’ve wasted enough of the day. Let us be gone from here. This hovel becomes more inhospitable the longer we linger. Perhaps you would like to be away from here, aye?”

Rey eventually raised herself and looked up at Vicrul. He was not poised to strike her.

“Come along, wench,” he griped. He shuffled uncomfortably to her trunk and perused her gowns. “You’ll take naught of these?”

She was having a difficult time comprehending that he had no intention of beating her. A beating might be well deserved after the blow she’d delivered. Plutt had acted with far less prompting.

Vicrul tossed the blood-stained garments aside with a snort of distaste. “Lord Ren will make certain you are clothed properly.” He began muttering to himself, “I would give a little toe to meet Plutt in the lists.”

He came back to her, put her on her feet, shoved her sword and her clothing into her hands and pulled her from her chamber, and down through the great hall.

Rey only partially saw Vicrul shove Plutt out of the way of the door, and then he was tossing her up onto a horse amongst a circle of large, battle-hardened knights.

“Do you ride?” he asked.

“No,” she breathed.

“You do now, my lady.”

The knights circled round about her and her horse began to move with them through the inner gates, on to the outer gates. As she struggled to adjust to the stride of the horse, she kept seeing the image of her stepfather’s nonplussed expression after Vicrul had displaced him from the steps. She quite admired that Vicrul had a knack for annoying Lord Plutt. She almost smiled.

The horses moved fast away from her home. Rey chanced a look back over her shoulder, seeing the keep growing smaller and smaller in the distance. She clutched her sword and stared at the place she’d been held captive for so many years.

“Pay attention to your horse,” Vicrul growled as he grabbed her reins. “This is no time to be shedding tears.”

“I’ve no reason to shed tears,” she said quickly.

Vicrul nodded sharply. “I shouldn’t think so, my lady.” He tossed her reins back. “Keep your eyes ahead. And don’t slow us down. My patience grows thinner by the moment.”

Rey nodded and took the reins again. She needed to keep a sharp eye out for her chance of escape. She glanced about at the stone-faced knights riding by her sides. Her spirits fell because she knew she’d never be able to elude so many trained escorts.

She was trading one prison for another, it seemed. She could imagine her new home would be just as bad or worse than Niima.

She remembered the parting words dear Finn had left her with the last time he’d been home alive. 

_You will not live at Niima forever. Take heart, sister. One day a handsome lord will come to take you away. Think of how happy you shall be._

She bit her lip. Finn could not have foreseen this. Her handsome lord had not come.

She was being sent into the terrifying den of the Devil of Exegol.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

The Devil of Exegol downed another mug of ale in his bedchamber and cursed the blackguard who had conjured the malty spirit. The frothy drink, however, had already done its damage. What rot! His head pounded with the thunderous hooves of a thousand horses racing across a drawbridge.

The parchment in his hands crackled as he clutched it too hard. Then he tossed it aside. The words written there were burned into his mind.

_I, Finneas of Castell, send greetings to Lord Ren of Exegol. My old friend, my time has come, I know I shall meet my Maker within a fortnight. You made a vow to me, a vow that you promised to uphold should I be met with death. I trust you to see it through, Kylo. I pray you do not fail. Upon your honor, fulfill your oath. May God bless you in this task._

_I, Finn, write this missive by my own hand._

The date on the bottom of the parchment was from a year ago. When he’d received Finn’s message, he’d nearly written it off as Finn being paranoid about his imminent death. But Finn had not been paranoid nor had he been jesting.

That damned vow. What a damned foolish thing to do. He didn’t need a wife underfoot.

He threw his empty mug against the back of the hearth with a curse. The loud shattering noise aided his head to more throbbing. He rose unsteadily and left the chamber, easing down the steps to the great hall. He was nigh to drunk, but he could well remember the day he’d made the vow.

_Kylo, you must see to Rey should anything happen to me. Do everything possible to take her away from Plutt. Her fate in his hands… Promise me, Ren. I know she isn’t comely, but she has qualities that are more desirable than beauty._

His lips fluttered with an exhale at the thought. Desirable qualities? Oh, aye. Loyalty came readily to his thoughts. What of loyalty?

“My lord, I’ve prepared a tray for your meal.”

Kylo’s stomach recoiled at the thought of food. “Nay, take it back, Hux. Feed it to the dogs for all I care.”

He listened as his young squire hurried away and slowly continued to his place at the high table. The boy needed a better master, someone who could give him the proper training he needed. Kylo had tried sending him away a year and a half ago, after he’d been wounded, but Hux, nor his father, would hear of it. But now, the boy, almost ten and six years, had become as indispensable as eyeballs. The lad had promise, and it was a shame he’d been stuck with Kylo.

Hux came back and shoved a new mug into Kylo’s fist. “Herbed wine, my lord. Down it quickly to settle your ills.”

“Aye. I’ve need of my ills to be settled,” he grouched. Holding his breath, he swallowed the nauseating brew. Eyes closed, he kept still to see if it would all come back up again. But it seemed to help. He sent Hux away with the empty mug and went back to his black thoughts.

Why in seven hells did he make any kind of promise to his old friend? He remembered the giving of it all too well, but hadn’t thought on it since. He and Finn had squired together at Bespin. He’d been watching Lord Calrissian, a man Kylo loved and worshipped, pick up his little daughter and carry her back into the keep to her mother. Lord Calrissian had spoken softly and gently to her. As Kylo had watched, Finn was there watching also with an expression that would have broken the hearts of all the angels of heaven.

That look had stayed with Kylo. Finn was the jovial sort. But not that day.

“Promise me,” Finn had whispered. “Promise me that if anything happens to me, you’ll take my sister away from Niima. Vow it now, Ren. I beg you.”

Kylo had been too shaken by Finn’s torment to do anything else but accept and make the vow. Once done, his friend had slowly returned to his normal disposition. Kylo couldn’t help but take note of the way Finn watched how Lord Calrissian had treated his daughter from that day on.

Rash words, aye. Spoken in haste, no mistake. In the years since, Kylo’s own life had grown into a miry tangle of tournaments and duty, reaching a pinnacle with a short, horrendous marriage, and then spending the past year living his own earthly hell, trying his best to recover. But he’d lost much. Too much.

Then news of Finn’s death. News of the sounds of beatings all hours of the night at Niima keep. News of how Rey of Niima pretended she wasn’t the recipient of those beatings.

Kylo couldn’t deny that he was affected. But such things happened throughout the known provinces. He’d suffered beatings himself.

But he’d given Finn his word. And Finn reminded him of his vow. Kylo may not have much left, but he still had his honor, distasteful as it was at the moment. He’d dragged his feet for nearly a year before making good on his promise, but he’d eventually sent an offer to Lord Plutt for his stepdaughter, Lady Rey of Niima.

No other lord in the realm had found Lady Rey’s dowry enticing. Kylo had no need of her dowry. Her pitiful dower estate, Jakku, was a barren, overworked bit of land. Kylo had seen it with his own eyes. Then there was her lack of beauty, as he’d been told. Without wealth or beauty, not even the Convent would have taken her in. She was nothing to the Church.

He had no idea why that bothered him so. He strode out of the great hall, more than ready to leave these thoughts behind. He’d done his honorable due. He’d sent for her. He would soon marry her and she would be under his protection. He’d fulfilled his vow to his friend, and now he could move on with his life.

Once outside the hall, the cold sea breeze washed over him. It seemed to clear the dull buzz better than Hux’s foul brew. He sidled over to the bench by the door and sat with a great sigh. The cold wall bracing his back and the weak sunlight on his face. He set his expression with a look that would turn away any interruptions and thought long and hard about what he needed to do.

Firstly, he wouldn’t let Lady Rey cause a disruption to his life. He’d get her with child, and then he’d never have to speak to her again. A foolproof plan to keep his heart sound and unaffected.

Secondly, he would conceal his trouble from her. Like the rest of his household, he would hide from her the extent of his injury.

“My lord?”

Kylo balled up his fists and bared his teeth. He caught himself from biting the lad’s head off. His young squire had done naught to draw his ire. “Aye, Hux.”

“I’ve completed the letter you wished to send to Lord Calrissian informing him of your marriage. It only needs your mark.”

“Hell fire. This bloody awful marriage. Pox rot my tongue for ever using it to make a vow to begin with.”

“‘Tis but the work of a moment, my lord. I’ve all the necessaries. Your quill is here, wax as well. You are wearing the signet ring upon your hand.”

Kylo slipped his thumb across the polished gold ring. His seal; the seal of the Devil of Exegol, passed down to him from his father, and his father’s father. It was as familiar to him as his own skin. “How very observant you are,” he responded.

“You see? All we need is here. A task done with the utmost ease.”

“And seeing is so easy, as you say?” Kylo growled.

Hux fell silent for several moments. “Apologies, my lord. I could have chosen better words,” he said quietly. “I mean to say—”

“Aye, lad. I know what you meant to say.” Kylo blew out a deep breath and apologized. “Pay me no heed. I’ve a great deal weighing on my thoughts. Here, now, hand me what I need.”

Hux set a smooth board on Kylo’s lap with the letter affixed to the middle of it.

“It needs your signature at the bottom, my lord. By the right corner, should do nicely.”

“I expect that’s the usual place for a signature,” Kylo observed with dry humor.

“Of course, my lord. I follow your strict regime of routine and order.”

A small, unwilling smile tugged the corner of Kylo’s lips. His young squire was ever ready with a quip or a soothing word to pull him from his foul moods.

“I believe your insubordination has gone unchecked for far too long, perhaps you need to be shown your place in the lists. We’ll see how quick you are on your feet in a wrestling match.”

“I gladly accept that challenge, my lord.”

Kylo snorted softly and adjusted his quill, tracing the edges of the letter with his thumbs.

“Farther to the left,” Hux gently murmured, too quiet to be heard by anyone who may be nearby. “Up a bit. Aye. Aye, there it is.”

Kylo signed his name with a flourish, an instinctive movement of his hand that had been learned from a young age. He’d quite liked lettering and the calligraphic arts.

“You’ve a fine hand with the quill, my lord.” Hux brushed sand across the ink and rolled the parchment. “Hell fire,” he cursed, sounding much like Kylo in that instant. “The wax is proving to be troublesome. Here we are. ‘Tis ready for your seal.” He took Kylo’s hand and pressed the ring over the cooling wax, holding it steady. “By your leave, my lord, I’ll hie this missive to the messenger and then I shall be ready for that match.”

Kylo waved Hux away and leaned once again on the cold wall. Even the simplest of tasks turned into nerve-wracking trials. The throb in his head was still dully humming. He’d be damned if he took to drinking too much ale in one sitting ever again. He couldn’t drown his problems with drink. Drink only made them worse. Couldn’t drown them, couldn’t run away from them. There was no escape for him.

Hells, and he had a new wife on the way. He had no idea how Lady Rey would react when she learned of his affliction. In truth, he wouldn't be able to see it.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This work is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

The black hills soon gave way to black cliffs that dropped steeply away from the landscape. Rey was glad that she was surrounded by Lord Ren’s knights because all she could see beyond the cliffs was cloud. But in the distance, a black fortress grew larger and more vast than she could have imagined her new home to be.

As they drew nearer, the great black outer walls rose sharply against the clouded sky. Exegol was as black and formidable as the stories of the Devil that resided within. Helmed guards stood atop the parapets, behind the battlements, keeping watch on the walls and surrounding lands.

The drawbridge had been lowered at their approach and the portcullis slowly raised. She pulled back on the reins, afraid to approach. Afraid to have already reached her final destination. The arrow slits along the mighty outer walls winked down at her in a sinister fashion. She saw the oil pots above the outer gate, prepared for the day some enemy dared cross the drawbridge. She had the dreadful feeling that if she stepped foot inside these walls, she’d never leave again.

“Lady Rey?”

She gasped and found Vicrul’s cruel face pointed in her direction. “Aye?”

“‘Tis an enemy which waits outside the gates. Into the bailey with you, my lady. There you may look at it all till your heart’s content.”

Rey gulped and followed Vicrul under the thick curtain wall. She supposed there was some comfort in knowing the fortifications of Exegol were stout and sound. Perhaps there would be safety within these walls. Niima’s walls weren’t nearly so strong or so well protected.

_No one gets in. No one gets out._

Her hands clenched too tightly on the reins in the darkened tunnel, and her horse began to rear. Her startled yelp alerted Vicrul to her distress. Her horse only became more unruly because Rey had no knowledge of how to control it. Just as her horse lunged forward again and shook the bit between its teeth, Rey was plucked from her mount and slung over the pommel of Vicrul’s saddle.

“Do not look down, my lady. If you start screaming, I vow I know not what I’ll be forced to do with you.”

Down? What was down? Rey looked anyway and choked back a cry. The stone bridge that tethered Exegol fortress with the mainland was the only firm thing beneath the horse’s hooves. It seemed that Exegol stood off to itself on a small island. The crashing waves of the sea below beat ferociously at the fortress’s rock foundations. Rey had never before seen the sea, but if this raging tumult was what it was like, she was sure she wanted nothing to do with it.

Rey clutched Vicrul’s tunic. “We’re surrounded by water,” she moaned.

“Aye. Exegol is a place so cursed it broke itself off from the rest of the province. The water proves to be cooling to the Devil’s heels, as you will come to learn.”

Her growing horror came up short when she heard Vicrul snickering softly. Why, the knave was laughing! Laughing at her!

“‘Tisn’t a bit funny,” she griped. “This place is cursed, as you said.”

“Nay, my lady. Exegol is a fitting place for those of us who have made a home here. Lord Ren keeps his own guard all the year, and the men have settled nicely. There is more to this island than you have seen thus far. You may find Exegol to your liking.”

Vicrul suddenly stiffened and grunted. “Not that I have a care whether you like it or not. And do not expect me to keep by your side like a prattling nursemaid. I’ve my own duties to Lord Ren, not to a wench who can’t keep her seat astride a horse.”

Rey noticed Vicrul’s slipping façade. In truth, the mighty man of renown, though curt and brash, made every effort to see that her journey was an easy one. He’d stopped his men often to allow her a rest, even when she had no need of rest. The man was kind. Though he’d be certain to deny it and thrash anyone who dared contradict him. She only slightly lamented that it was Lord Ren of Exegol and not Vicrul of Abraxas who was to be her husband. For, surely, there would be no kindness found in the Devil of Exegol.

Did a warlock possess gentleness and kindness? Nay, she shouldn’t think so. Lord Ren was a sorcerer who dallied in the dark arts. Things only the evil were party to.

Her fear was already choking her. The longer she dwelt on Lord Ren’s proclivities, the worse her fright became. She tried her best to think on other things.

The lists were to the left. She peered from under Vicrul’s arm at the men in training, armored, wielding their weapons, becoming adept at war. The clash of steel on steel rang through the bailey like music from a church belltower. The men she could see were training hard, no doubt in fear of their devilish master. Were she allowed, she would train just as hard.

Rey had always considered Niima a large place, but as she measured her surroundings, she found that Niima was sorely small in comparison to Exegol. The great hall took up a corner of the courtyard, a chapel not far from it. The garrison hall had three levels. The stables took up another corner and wall of the bailey. A small garden lay between the great hall and the chapel. If only she could be free to spend a peaceful morning there among the sweet herbs.

Likely a far sight better than the smell of Vicrul’s odor clogging her nostrils.

Vicrul set her on her feet at the steps to the great hall and told her to go inside. Oh, but she couldn’t! She bit her lip and clasped her hands together, worrying her fingers into knots. She turned away, but Vicrul’s massive chest was blocking her path. He took her firmly by the shoulders and faced her toward the door again.

“Have courage, my lady.”

Rey’s idea of courage would have been to unsheathe Vicrul’s sword, lop off his legs at the knees and ride away on the horse she’d been placed on. But she could not wield his heavy sword. She’d no doubt botch the chopping of his legs, and in truth, she couldn’t ride without someone beside her shoving her back into the middle of the saddle when she tipped too far to one side.

No, she could do none of those things that would take even an ounce of courage. She had none. Rey of Niima was a coward.

Her legs trembled as she stepped over the threshold.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

No one knew how the Devil of Exegol had to count the steps down to the great hall so he didn’t lose his way. Counting gave his feet the studied confidence of a man in possession of all his faculties. But this day? Nay, this day he could not find his confidence nor could he find his place.

He slowly inched his way along the stone stairs. Dread weighed his feet, made him slow. Why in the name of all that is Holy did he make an offer for her? He was a blasted fool.

Hux had kept him apprised of the situation belowstairs. His young squire had been pulled thither and yon trying to keep up with his constant demands for news as well as seeing to Lady Rey’s comfort after her journey. Kylo knew the lad would bear up under the strain.

What he didn’t know was why Vicrul had wholly ignored his request that he present himself and brief Kylo on the news of their journey from Niima. He was incensed that Vicrul had sent word through Hux that he was needed at Lady Rey’s side, and that if Lord Ren wished to speak with him, he could bloody well march his lordly arse to the great hall to do it.

Kylo should have left Vicrul’s body to bleed out on the battlefield at Crait. There was no ordering Vicrul to do anything, nor would he have left the whoreson behind, as the man was his brother-in-law. Family.

So Kylo had stewed in his bedchamber and waited hours before he finally stepped off the last step into the great hall, cursing his bloody fate. He tuned his ears to the sounds therein, picking out the voices he’d grown familiar with. The cooks and the kitchen lads, pots clattering, servants trading tales. The sound of the trestle tables being dragged across the stone floor in preparation for the evening meal. Laughter. Vicrul cursing up a foul stormcloud with his thunderous voice. Yet, he heard not the voice of his bride-to-be.

Kylo knew she was present. There was a new scent that floated above the rushes and the smell of unwashed bodies. A hint of something sweet. Pleasant.

He frowned and braced himself.

“Lady Rey,” his voice cracked across the hall like a whip.

The slosh of ale and the subsequent crash of a mug splintering on the stone floor confirmed his suspicions. The sudden silence in the hall grew deafening.

“Come here to me,” he ordered.

No one moved until Hux murmured a soft spoken word. He heard a chair scraping the floor. He held out his hand, inviting her to place her hand upon his. Her faltering steps drew closer, though sluggish and hesitant, and he tilted his head in the right direction. When her hand did not touch his, he shoved his arm farther out, refusing to relent his position.

At last, icy fingers skittered tentatively across his palm. The girl was terror-struck. Trembling. He took a moment to breathe in her refreshing scent. He frowned.

“Hux, see to it that Lady Rey sits closer to the fire,” he called over to his squire. “My lady’s lips are turning blue.”

Kylo’s thumb seemed to sprout a will of its own, sliding slowly over the tips of her cold fingers.

“My lord,” she breathed.

He almost didn’t catch her words, frightened and soft as they were. Hearing her voice for the first time tugged at a place deep within. He dropped her hand like it had suddenly become a hot coal. He stepped backward and touched the wall behind him, determined to put distance between them. He’d nearly given in to the ridiculous notion of leaning down to place a kiss on the back of her hand or covering it with this other hand to lend her comfort. He kept backing up toward the steps.

“We shall wed as soon as Lord Plutt arrives. Take heed and be ready. I’ve no patience for lateness.” Darkest hell of hells! He needed to be gone from her.

Kylo quit the hall with all the speed he could manifest, losing count yet again up the steps. He could still feel the coldness of her hand in his own. He squeezed his hand into a fist and shook it loose, praying that the feeling would wane. He lost his footing at the top of the steps, only just catching himself before he went sprawling.

“This day can go to the Devil,” he spat. Closing himself inside his chamber, he found his lit candle in the precise place it was meant to be. He kindled a fire in the hearth and gathered a great fur around him once he sat in his chair.

A new thought was only just occurring to him. He’d considered how little Lady Rey’s dowry was compared to the riches of his own estate. But the truth of the matter was that he’d failed to consider how little the Devil of Exegol was bringing to this marriage. What he had to offer her was very little, indeed.

“Be glad you’re not cursed to deal with women, my friend.” Kylo’s wolfhound, Chewie, padded over from his warm place by the fire, setting his great head upon his knee. The hound whined and nudged at Kylo’s hand for attention. “Aye, not worth the trouble they bring.”

And yet Kylo was betrothed to one. He gnashed his teeth at the thought of having to welcome Plutt into his home. Lord Plutt was more than happy to have an intimate tie with the house of Exegol. Kylo wanted nothing to do with the man. He’d heard stories enough from Finn about Plutt’s hard and unforgiving nature.

Chewie raised his head from Kylo’s knee and rumbled with a growl. Someone had come inside his chamber because he’d forgotten to bolt the door. “Who goes there?”

“Master Hux sent me up with a tray for your meal, my lord.”

“Set it there, and be gone with you.” Kylo gestured to where his table sat.

Once the serving wench retreated, he latched the bolt as he should have done when he first came back to his chamber. He took a bite of some meat pie Cook had prepared, but was unimpressed with the flavor of it. He sat the trencher at his feet and let Chewie eat the rest. Kylo’s appetite had been off. Too much to chew on in his thoughts.

A new wife would expect certain behaviors from her new husband. His head ached with the thought of having to try. To try to be caring or protective, or, God forbid, try to hold a civil conversation with her. Thinking on it made him irritable and restless. Hells! He didn’t want another wife!

His days were already filled with his duties to his estate and to his men. To Hux’s training. He hadn’t the time to go changing all that to make concessions for a woman’s needs. And she would have need of things. He’d learned his lessons the hard way during and after his first marriage. He would not enter into this union with his heart offered up like some sacrificial gift to love.

Love. What a cruel jest. What a miserable houseguest. Love was meant to make men weak.

And Kylo had been weak.

But the war of love had left his honor intact. Honor was the only reason he was keeping to his oath.

Kylo stood and took his sword from amongst his armor, fisted the hilt and let the grip bite into the same place where Lady Rey’s hand had been. He needed to exert himself. He needed to break something. He needed to slice his way through an enemy.

‘Twas a pity there was no enemy readily available.

He counted his way up the steps to his tower chamber, ready to spend a little time practicing in secret.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Rey had passed a fitful night of sleep in her bedchamber. She’d spent many hours thinking about what had transpired in the great hall when the lord of Exegol had called her name from the darkest corner of the room. At least, she was almost certain she had met Lord Ren. There was no introduction.

There had also been a shocking lack of horns. Perhaps the horns only came forth at appointed times. His eyes had been… She supposed they had been normal eyes. Dark set in a long, pale face. She only got a vague sense of the shape of him. Tall and broad.

And if that man indeed had been Lord Ren, he’d given her a desultory look before disappearing quickly. No doubt he’d found her repulsive and wished to flee from the sight of her. It was now likely that he had no wish to be near her, but she was not upset by such a notion.

The sudden knock on her door set her teeth to chattering. Oh, Saints! He’d come for her. He was going to drag her down to the great hall and thrash her in front of the servants. He was going to make an example of her.

“My lady,” a voice on the other side interrupted her harried thoughts. “‘Tis Hux. I should think you would like to come and break your fast. Shall I escort you to the hall?”

Rey hesitantly unbarred the door to peek out at Hux.

“Methinks it would be a peaceful enough endeavor, as Sir Vicrul and my lord are training in the lists.”

She finally pushed the door open and made sure there weren’t any devils lurking in the hallway. Only Hux. He bowed to her and gave her a sweet smile. Rey could only nod, too shaken to smile in return. She’d learned that Hux hailed from Arkanis, and that he was a darling boy, and she had no idea why a good father would send such a sweet boy to be trained up from his youth by the monster of the black hills. It didn’t stand to reason.

“I beg of you, come and take a meal with me. ‘Tisn’t everyday I’m allowed to be of service to such a comely lass.” He offered up his arm for her to take.

Rey paused there in the doorway, quite flummoxed by his words. She’d never had anyone call her comely. Surely it was a jest.

She finally took his arm and he made conversation the whole way to the table in the great hall. And it was a very fine hall. She’d been too distracted and too afraid to take any notice the night before. There were four great hearths built into the wall that funneled the fire smoke out of doors. The great hearth at Niima had been a smoky pit in the middle of the floor. High windows opened up the large space with splashes of sunlight. Detailed tapestries lined the walls, depicting battles and plumed knights on horseback. She marveled at the beauty of the craftsmanship. She’d never seen the like.

Another fine meal had been set before her. Good and abundant. A spoonful of porridge was halfway to her mouth when an armed guard clattered into the hall and threw down his shield. Rey startled at the noise, remembering that she was in the Devil’s den, not in a safe place. Her fear of what was to come made her lose any pang of hunger she may have experienced that morning.

Hux, though, had a hearty appetite and no qualms eating his fill. He gestured to her food. “Do your teeth ail you? Why do you not eat, my lady?” he asked.

Rey straightened in her chair. “I am well. Forgive me,” she said woodenly. Her hand shook as she reached for a slice of bread. It wouldn’t report well to His Lordship if she were found to have rejected his food.

“I mean not to offend, but you’re awfully thin. Did they withhold your meals at Niima?”

She stilled in her place. Indeed, some days she would go the whole day without eating. Not unless she was bold enough or hungry enough to steal a bit of stale bread or cheese from the kitchens. Keeping her well-fed had never been one of her stepfather’s priorities.

She must have gone on in silence too long. “You shall not go hungry. Not again,” Hux said quietly.

Rey bowed her head, on the very verge of weeping. More kindness? She had expected none at all.

“Mayhap you’d prefer a walk before you find your appetite?” he suggested.

If she were to leave the table there would be a chance she’d meet Lord Ren outside the hall. “I do not wish to disrupt His Lordship’s training.” She had no desire to see him. An uneasy sensation rollicked inside her belly.

“I wish to show you the heights of Exegol. The battlements allow a startling perspective of the sea and the black hills.”

She felt much relief that they wouldn’t be going anywhere near the lists. She gave Hux a nod and he helped her from her chair, once again lending her the use of his arm.

“I must confess a secret, my lady. Sir Vicrul is afraid of the battlements. Too high up for him.”

Rey found it difficult to believe Vicrul afraid of anything. She frowned at Hux’s back as he led the way up the steps. Another jest? Her lips tugged into a smile anyway. “Sir Vicrul is so tall. Does he frighten himself when he stands?”

Hux burst into a fit of raucous laughter. “I shall be sure to ask him next time we trade gibes.” He smiled back at her before he resumed the climb. “Sir Vicrul’s temper is right awful, but I goad him when I can. When it is my turn to keep watch on the walls, I request that he join me. But he always finds a duty far more pressing that takes him immediately away.” He chuckled again. “He knows I mock him, but I am too quick on my feet for him to catch me, and I make my escape up here. Though, he does have a long memory, and bides his time for his retaliation.”

“He beats you often?” she asked, frozen at the top step.

“Not at all, my lady. Not…” Hux trailed off and looked back at her with a baffled expression. He squared up to face her, looking her in the eye. “He would not. Not without angering my lord. Now, a wrestling match in the lists? That would be a different set of circumstances. He will thrash me good, or try to, but there aren’t many who have gone head to head with Vicrul of Abraxas and lived to tell about it.”

“And do you wrestle Lord Ren?”

“Most assuredly. His reputation is even more fearsome than Sir Vicrul’s. Haven’t you heard the stories?”

Rey gulped and refused to repeat the stories she knew of the monster of Exegol. “Only a little. I’ve never traveled outside of Niima before, not since I came to live there as a little child.”

Hux nodded and frowned in contemplation. He took her arm and led her to the wall facing the inner baileys. “West,” he pointed, “faces the mainland.”

Beyond the courtyard wall below, the bailey was teeming with activity. Merchants selling wares from their stalls and carts. Horses snorted hot, smoky breaths into the cool morning air. Some stamped at the dogs that scampered too close to their hooves. More than one smithy’s hammer clanged rhythmically against anvil. People traveled through the armed gates, down to the village that lay beyond and to the left of the fortress. In the lists she could see armored knights tilting their lances. Others sparred with swords or were wrestling. There were several men working with their war horses.

From their heightened distance, she tried to find Lord Ren. But there was no way for her to know which man was him.

Hux took her to another wall. “North is where my home of Arkanis lies.”

“Do you have a large family?” she asked.

“Indeed. I am the youngest son out of four. I have no title, but I shall have an inheritance one day.”

“You must long to be home,” she murmured.

“Nay, my lady. My father will visit on occasion, and I return home once a summer to see my mother. But I am ever ready to come back to Exegol. Lord Ren has need of me and I am contented here.”

She couldn’t believe that Hux would be happy to stay with the beast of the black hills. Perhaps the boy was a simpleton and knew not what his lord did.

“Ah, the eastern view is the best view. Have you ever set eyes upon the sea?”

“I only saw the waves crashing against the rocks when we crossed over the bridge yesterday.”

“This way,” he directed her. “Gaze upon it properly.”

The sea beat against the rock below with the same ferocious energy she’d witnessed the day before. But the colossal spread of the waters spanning the horizon made her clutch to the wall in front of her. The vastness before seemed to shrink her world even more. The sea was certainly a sight to behold, though with no land to ground her eyes, she felt as if she were being carried away on the rolling waters. She stepped backward, feeling unsettled, but Hux was quick to pull her away from the edge of the parapet.

“Take care, my lady! You must remain close to the wall. Lord Ren would skin me alive and hang my sorry hide to dry in the courtyard if you were to be hurt.”

Aye, the part about the skinning alive, she believed.

She took heed of Hux’s words. There was much danger of falling from the parapet facing the inner walls. Just as she imagined great danger lurking within. The weathered stone beneath her hands and feet was a testament to the strength of Exegol, dark and bleak though it was. Her new home. Not a pleasant prospect. But the sea held a strange attraction for her. She could become accustomed to viewing it daily. A small reward for becoming the wife of the Devil of Exegol.

Rey shuddered. Would she be rewarded a last view of the sea from the Lord Ren’s tower, where he practiced his dark magics, before he sacrificed her to—

“Come and see to the south. Not as fine to look at,” he said, leading her across the walk.

She hadn’t forgotten her desire to escape and make her appeal before the king. “Coruscant is in the south,” she said, looking to Hux for confirmation.

“Aye, my lady. Coruscant is south.”

She gave a quick nod and tried to warm her hands along the sides of her arms. “I should like to go back to my chamber.”

“But there is more to see,” Hux protested.

“Nay, I pray thee. I grow chilled.” Aye, chilled with fear, her constant companion. She would rather not disclose to him the real reason for her retreat. Her fear may only provoke Lord Ren and his dark plans for her.

Hux stoked the fire in her chamber, chasing away any cold that might have lingered in her bones. He bid her farewell and she barred the door behind him. She changed into her patched tunic and mended tights and drew her sword from the bottom of her trunk. She planned to practice wielding her blade and to weary herself in the process. She would need to rest as much as she could if an escape during the night could be accomplished. An opportunity is what she needed, and an opportunity is what she would be in search of.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

There was no chamber pot set aside for her private use. Nary a one under the bed. She searched high and low, her insides nigh unto bursting. She had a choice, of course, but her choices were unsavory, no matter how she sized up the situation. But there was no help for it. She would have to leave her chamber. She had no wish to leave the safety of her room. Not yet.

She pulled on a cloak and paused at her door. As silent as was possible, she removed the bolt and slipped through. It took much too long to happen upon a garderobe. One could easily locate the correct area in the keep at Niima by the smell of the cesspit alone. Cleaning out the cesspit was a task no one ever seemed to have time nor inclination to complete. Not so, it seemed, at Exegol.

Too long she’d wandered the passageways to find her relief and now she was lost. Her breathing turned labored as she looked about her. No section of stone in the dark passage seemed familiar. Around another corner, her eyes spied light and shadow reflecting off a wall.

The light was coming from the direction of a stairwell. A narrow set of stairs that wound round and up. Fierce trembling shook her. The tower chamber. The Devil of Exegol’s tower chamber.

As if seduced by some evil enchantment, her feet propelled her to the steps. She climbed. She knew he was there, doing his evil deeds. His dark spells bade her come to him.

She slapped a hand over her mouth to stop a whimper from coming forth. The door to the chamber was open. Her heart beat heavy like a smithy’s hammer on molten iron. Labored breathing, not her own, and grunts of expended effort sounded from the inside. And another sound she knew well, the sound of a sword slicing through the air.

Did he… Did he have some sacrifice at his mercy? Spilling its blood?

Before she could peer inside, a great, black wolf filled the doorway. Eyes aglow, teeth bared in threat. The scream lodged in her chest. This beast would drag her to his master.

The wolf stalked toward her. But terror had frozen Rey where she stood. She closed her eyes and anticipated its long teeth sinking into her flesh; she braced herself to be torn asunder.

A cold, wet nose nudged at her hand. A tear squeezed from her eye. The hellhound tugged at her sleeve and wrested her away from the tower chamber. Her eyes flew open as the wolf led her back down the stairs by his teeth. At the last step, the wolf let her go with a mighty huff, finally turning back in the direction from where they came.

Shaking like the last leaves on a wintering tree, she ran. She pushed against several doors until she finally found her own chamber. She sobbed in relief when she at last had the bolt locking her chamber door in place.

Rey flew to her bed and hid herself underneath the bedclothes. It was all true. Every rumor and bit of gossip touting Lord Ren’s evil exploits were true. He’d been there in that chamber doing the very things that a warlock would do. The man was truly evil. And in only a matter of days, she was cursed to be tied to him for the rest of her life.

How long would her life last? That she could not know.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you know of a good medieval Reylo story, tell me about it. I'd love to rec some reads to you.
> 
> Here's one I enjoyed: [The Princess and the Captain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24931177/chapters/60338332) by [gotabingley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotabingley/pseuds/gotabingley)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

“Lady Rey would not leave her chamber again today, my lord. This is the third day she has claimed illness,” Hux said as he puttered about in Kylo’s bedchamber.

Kylo had been in the foulest of moods since her arrival, his upcoming nuptials to the girl having that effect on him. He frowned at Hux’s news.

“If she is ill, fetch the leech, see what can be done for her.”

“I do not believe she is truly ill, merely burdened by the newness of her place here.”

Kylo snorted softly. Feigning sickness already? That boded well for the future.

“Methinks she has never been much farther than outside Niima’s keep. Sir Vicrul said she’d never been on a horse. This puzzles me greatly,” Hux continued.

Taking up his goblet of wine, Kylo sipped upon it with deliberate slowness. He didn’t want to hear anything about the lady Rey, yet he didn’t want to miss anything. And he’d be damned if he was going to outright ask about her. He’d groused enough about having to hear all about her from Hux.

Fortunately for him, Hux was in a babbling sort of spirit, volunteering bits of news here and there. He’d been told the girl had no appetite, that she was nigh to wasting away. He ground his teeth, unsure if the blame for that circumstance lay with Plutt or the lady herself.

“She made sport of Sir Vicrul the first day. I caught her smiling on the way up to the battlements. She has a lovely smile, my lord. ‘Twas pleasing to the eye.”

Kylo’s head hurt, as it often did. “Hux, no one has ever taught you how to hold your tongue.” He brought his hand to his brow and squeezed his forehead, trying to release the pressure building behind his eyes.

“My apologies, my lord.” And Hux remained silent.

For too long.

Kylo was grinding his teeth by the time a half hour had passed. He’d listened undisturbed as Hux tidied the room, cleaned and put away his battle armor, and stoked the fire. He expected the boy to crack at any moment, but he did not.

“Hux,” he snarled. “Pour the wine. Sit ye down and have a cup for yourself.” There. That would get the boy to talking again. Hux refilled Kylo’s goblet and he heard another being poured. The lad drank deep and continued to remain silent.

Kylo bit off a curse. “Untangle your tongue, lad. Let me hear all you have to say of the wench.”

“Oh. I’d gathered that your ears had their fill of her,” Hux returned innocently.

“Your silence is worse than your incessant chatter.” Kylo shifted and turned his face toward the fire. “Continue,” he grit between his teeth.

“Certainly, my lord.” Hux shuffled where he sat and drank more of the wine. “She’s more timid than a mouse, though there’s a sweet charm about her. As I said, she made sport of Sir Vicrul, though I do not believe it was her aim. She seemed to marvel at your fine hall, and I showed her the view from the battlements, but after that, she wanted to go back to her chamber. She would not open the door today when I told her Lord Plutt had arrived.”

Hux paused then.

“I know not what happened at Niima, but I do believe she was ill treated there. I’m afeard she took many vicious beatings. There are scars along her delicate face. The day she arrived, there was a welted mark on the bone of her left cheek. She—”

“What?”

“Sir Vicrul told me that Plutt had thrashed her just before he’d arrived at Niima.”

“Why in seven hells didn’t you tell me?” Kylo roared.

“By the time she reached Exegol, there was nothing to be done for it,” Hux murmured contritely.

“There most certainly is something to be done. Post a guard outside her door. Post two. See that you keep Plutt away from her, and anyone else who might bring her harm. God’s teeth!” He slammed his fist down on his chair. He’d like to strike Plutt. Kylo couldn’t stand the thought of a woman being beaten, nor anyone who couldn’t defend themselves.

What hell Rey must have lived through at Niima. And he’d left her there for longer than was necessary. He cursed again and butted the back of his head against the chair. He could have sent for her a year ago. Should have. _Do everything possible to take her away from Plutt._ Oh, how he’d failed his friend. How he’d failed Rey.

Hux returned to his chamber. Kylo turned at the sound of his footsteps. “Is it done?”

“Aye. Sir Vicrul keeps watch already, along with Ushar. I also took the liberty to reassure my lady that she was well protected. I do not think she believes it.”

“Find your rest, Hux. Let us be up before Plutt on the morrow and watch that he keeps to himself. I’ll drag my feet no longer and wed the girl.”

“If you do not wed her, there are others here who would do it in your stead. I would wed her.”

“What’s this?” Kylo raised his head, taken aback at Hux’s tone. “What do you know of marriage?” He spit the word like it tasted foul.

“I’m of a mind the lady Rey would flourish under proper care and feeding. She’s got the finest pair of eyes I’ve yet seen.” Hux sighed and Kylo almost snorted in derision. “That girl just needs a bit of patience. And love.”

Kylo deflated at the lad’s soft words. He’d wager all the girl ever knew of such softness was from her brother, Finn, and he’d not been with her for much of her life.

“What say you, Lord Ren?” Hux piped up once again, with a firmness to his voice that surprised Kylo. “Will you do the job proper? I’ve grown… protective of the lady. I would hear from your own mouth that you will do what is right and good by her.”

“The bloody cheek on you, lad…” Kylo wouldn’t have accepted such disrespect from anyone. But he knew Hux to be in earnest for the lady’s safety and well-being. “I gave my word that I would wed her. I won’t go back on it.”

As for the rest, Kylo would think long and hard on it.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

A maid named Lema came to Rey the morning of her wedding and helped her dress in a gown of green and autumn gold. She knew not where all the gowns had come from, but there were several provided just for her use. Fine, warm dresses, soft and well-made. Cloaks of fur and sturdy fabrics.

When Lema finished with Rey’s hair, she stood back and straightened the sleeves and hem of her dress. “You look lovely, my lady,” she said softly.

Rey had asked the girl if she knew aught of the dresses and whence they’d come from, she had no remarks to offer. She also had nothing to say of Lord Ren, seeming to hold back tears whenever Rey mentioned his name.

Lema began sniffling as she fussed with the gown. Rey turned to her, wondering what was the matter.

The girl took hold of her hands, crying. “I am sorry for you, my lady. So very sorry.”

Lema fled the room, leaving Rey staring after her. The peace Rey had found over the past several days was now gone. She closed her shaking hands, twisting them together. Of course, the girl was afeard for Rey. She was about to wed the Devil of Exegol. She’d seen him casting his dark magic in his tower chamber. She’d felt the breath of his wolfhound. Had she gotten a better look, she was sure his horns would have been on display as well as his blood-red eyes.

She knew she would see them soon enough.

Rey went for the door, thinking only of escape, but it flew open before she could touch it. Her stepfather stood in her way, his nasty visage frowning down at her.

“A poor sight, you are, even on your wedding day.”

Rey stepped backward and put a chair between her and her stepfather.

“Well, now. Won’t you be begging me to take ye home?” he taunted with a foul smile.

She was well acquainted with the horrors of Niima. She had no wish to go back to them. “I’ll go nowhere with you!”

“Thankless, sniveling brat!” he growled, raising his heavy fist and coming at her. “One more beating should serve you well.”

She clutched at the beautiful gown, her wedding gown. He would ruin it, just like he’d ruined everything in her life.

“Lord Plutt, you will lower your hand and remove yourself from this chamber.”

Hux, her young savior, stood behind her stepfather, hand upon the sword at his side. A breath of relief rushed out of her.

“What’s this, then?” Plutt sneered. “A boy whose bollocks haven’t even dropped? I’ll smack that look right off your gob.”

Sir Vicrul and another who stood just as tall and broad as he, stepped inside and flanked Hux. Both men were Plutt’s size and even more intimidating.

“Or I’ll have you removed,” Hux said with all the command granted a ruling lord. Swords rang from their scabbards, shutting her stepfather’s mouth.

“Please make your way to the chapel. I shall escort the lady Rey in a moment,” Hux continued to address Plutt.

Rey experienced a victory so freeing, she was almost giddy. These men had come to her rescue, a prayer uttered hundreds of times, at last, fulfilled. 

Plutt shoved Hux from his path on his way out. Hux frowned at her stepfather’s back before turning to her with a low bow.

“Are you ready, my lady?” he asked, a pleasant smile on his face.

A sudden terror fell on her. It was time. How could it be time already? Merciful heavens, what was she to do?

“I need a moment,” she breathed. “Please.”

“You look especially fine today,” Hux said. “My lord is in the chapel and he is pacing the floor.” He came and took her trembling hand. He paused as though affected by her trembling. “Lady Rey, please do not fear. All will be well. I promise,” he said earnestly. He began chattering about his childhood as he found her cloak and fastened it around her shoulders. He spoke of the coming springtime and warmer days ahead. Of spending a day in the garden and in the sunshine. They were now down the stairs and out of doors, getting closer and closer to the chapel.

The sky was black with a storm, dark as her doom. Knights flanked the path. No escape. No way out. She could only keep moving forward as the men closed in behind her.

Hux urged her on, she saw a priest, saw her father, saw some men she did not know. And she saw a tall man standing with the priest, his broad back to her. Hux was pushing her now. He pushed her to stand beside Lord Ren. God help her, she would be under his authority in only moments.

The man beside her was startling with his black hair and pale face. He frowned as though he were in a dark mood. His eyes were flinty and his brow was heavy and drawn low. There was a scar slicing a portion of his face. His pale skin seemed mottled with dark red and purple around his eyes.

Rey turned her face forward, knowing she’d been staring too long. But she soon tilted her head to have another look. His jaw clenched and his muscles tensed. His hair, long and falling in tousled waves to his shoulders.

He turned his head toward her and his eyes granted her no softness. She swallowed back a weak noise.

His hand raised out in front of her, palm up. “You kept me waiting long enough.”

It took her much too long to place her hand on his massive one. She began to pray.

Her stepfather crowded her left side and she shied closer to Lord Ren.

“You stand too close, Plutt,” Lord Ren growled, not even looking at her stepfather. But his arm came up and around her, bringing her into the space under his shoulder. Her trembling worsened. Was this a protective gesture? Or something else?

The priest called for an accounting of her dowry. Her stepfather listed her portion. Jakku, her true father’s land, a place she’d never seen, and a very poorly sum, barely enough to pay a knight’s salary for a year. Perhaps she’d have been less embarrassed if she’d had none at all to bring to this union.

Sir Vicrul began listing Lord Ren’s portion and Rey nearly sunk through the stones under her feet in shame. His wealth was astounding. His holdings, extensive. Her almost-husband tightened his arm around her. “Easy, now,” he whispered to her and her alone.

They brought forth the marriage contract and Hux offered her the quill while he pointed to the document. “Your mark, my lady, must go at the bottom on the left, close to the edge. There is not room enough for a large signature,” he directed her.

Rey glanced sideways at the young man, afraid he’d gone daft. “Yes, thank you, I can see for myself where to sign.”

“Apologies, my lady.”

She signed and realized what she’d just done without second thought. She’d signed her life away.

Hux took the quill and readied it, placed it in Lord Ren’s hand. “Very little space for you as well, my lord.”

Lord Ren slid his large hands along the parchment and placed the tip of the quill over the words of the agreement. She looked up at his face in bewilderment.

Hux directed him with a quiet word and Lord Ren looked as if he were about to tear someone in half. Maybe he did not know how to read. His mark was going too far to the edge of the page, but in a blink he’d finished, the parchment gone, and Lord Ren was dragging her close to his body.

His hard black eyes stared down at her while he fumbled with the dead weight of her left arm. He slid a ring onto her finger and instead of crushing her with a revolting embrace, he very lightly placed a kiss between her brows. He pulled away, and she could see his left eye twitching before Vicrul slapped a hand across his back and walked away with him.

Hux led her over to a bench and sat her beside Lord Ren. The service continued, but Rey only listened with half an ear. He’d treated her gently just now. She almost couldn’t believe it. She felt the foreign piece of jewelry on her finger. She glanced at the restless giant next to her. Aye, church must be an uncomfortable place for someone who served the darkness.

The Church was called to partake of the Lord’s Table and she stood. She was most astonished that Lord Ren stood to partake as well. Did he not understand that it was an ordinance set aside for Believers alone?

Perhaps he cared not.

Her husband took her hand and she followed him to the front again, but she pulled against his hand when he nearly ran over another woman.

“My lord,” she whispered. “You’ll trample her.”

He stopped mid-stride and made the tiniest noise of frustration. Jaw clenching. Eye twitching. Perhaps he was apprehensive about communion. It would not do well if his people saw him refuse. Once the woman ahead had shuffled off, Rey tugged on his hand and he moved. But he moved in the strangest way. He moved slowly, like he was searching the ground with his feet.

He sank to his knees before the altar and Rey with him. Before long he was pulling her to her feet again. She stared once more at her new husband’s face. The scar made him appear a sinister sort. His frown did nothing to dissipate that thought.

His head turned toward the sound of her stepfather’s riotous voice. Plutt raised complaints about any little thing that seemed to cross his mind.

Hux pushed her back to Lord Ren’s side and said, “The wedding feast awaits us, my lord. Lady Rey looks like she is famished. Think you?” he asked Lord Ren, who agreed.

Rey frowned at the exchange. She found the walk back to the great hall just as baffling, with Hux describing every step they took, every little uneven nuance of the path before them. She feared the lad was going to make her husband angry by pointing out every little flaw he found.

She shook her head at Hux, trying to get him to be silent. But he didn’t stop talking until they were seated at their place at the table in the great hall.

Supper was a strange and strained affair. Her stepfather drank the wine faster than the servants could pour it. Lord Ren was clumsy and nearly spilled his wine a handful of times. Hux caught his goblet the first time his hand knocked it. Rey caught it afterward. Lord Ren stuck his hands in the stew and dipped his spoon in the bread. The longer the meal lasted, the worse his manners became and the more incensed he seemed to her.

Rey didn’t know how much more of the affair she could take. She catalogued the rumors and the gossip she’d heard about Lord Ren, the Devil of Exegol, and looked at the man sitting beside her. Now she wondered if anything she’d heard and believed was true. The man could barely feed himself, how was he supposed to be a master of the dark arts?

One of her stepfather’s men came before the high table. Lord Ren would not acknowledge his presence. So the man waited silently. After long moments, Rey finally spoke. “My lord,” she whispered. “Will you not speak with him?”

“Who?” he growled.

“The man that stands before you.”

“Speak, then.”

“My lord Plutt is dissatisfied with the meal. He sent me—”

“If he has complaints, tell him he can go to the Devil,” Lord Ren said.

“But, my lord does not—”

Lord Ren stood and flipped his trencher onto the feet of her stepfather’s man. Bits of food flew all over. “You do not care for my hospitality, then take yourself and your lord and get out!”

Rey sat in utter shock. Plutt was not a man to be toyed with. Surely Lord Ren knew that. Yet he did not hold back insult to her stepfather.

“Where is he?” Lord Ren bellowed. “Plutt!”

Her stepfather was already standing in front of her husband. Yet Lord Ren continued to shout his name.

Plutt laughed drunkenly as he pointed an unsteady finger at Lord Ren.

Lord Ren tensed up as if he’d been struck. “Get out of my sight,” he said low, full of menace.

“The girl’s coming back with me,” Plutt slurred.

Rey was hoisted to her feet and shoved behind Lord Ren. He held her there by her arm, his giant hand like a manacle. And though she could not move, she did not feel imprisoned. And he smelled a great deal better than Sir Vicrul. And he stood in front of her like a protective wall. A wall that separated her and her stepfather. She liked that best of all. She laid her forehead against his back and closed her eyes. She could hear her husband breathing like a winded horse, growling at Plutt.

She could barely hear what her stepfather said back to her husband. Something about being drunk and blind. And then the noise of the hall crashed around her. Lord Ren drew his sword. She could only clutch tightly to the back of his tunic.

The fracas was short. The hall was cleared and her stepfather tossed outside. Hux came to Lord Ren and patted his shoulder. “They’re gone, my lord.”

Lord Ren tried to help her back into her chair. But his help was another clumsy endeavor. He nearly threw her into the floor. Hux was there to catch her. Rey sat back and watched him again. He clearly could not handle himself at table. Spilling more wine. Stabbing himself with a knife. It was like he couldn’t see anything he was doing. She watched his eyes. His eyes did not track the movements of his hands. Was he that drunk?

Nay.

She’d had her hand on his goblet through the whole meal. He’d not drunk a sip of the wine.

Hux took a silent cue from a guard at the door. “My lord, Plutt’s party has gone through the outer gates,” he murmured.

“And how bloody long had the whoreson been standing in front of me while I bellowed like an ass?”

Hux sighed and kneaded his closed eyes. “Long enough,” he said softly. The lad frowned and offered up his empty hands to Rey, like he didn’t know what to say or do.

The feasting continued. Minstrels and musicians played. Hours passed like that. Rey hardly noticed any of it. She stayed quiet in her chair.

She’d expected a great many horrible things to happen to her at Exegol. Beatings, horns, blood-red eyes, devilish sacrifices…

She had not expected that he’d never be able to see her with those rumored red eyes.

Lord Ren, the Devil of Exegol, was blind.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Kylo picked up the eating dagger that had stabbed him, yet again, and jammed the sharp end into the trestle table. Hell fire! He was ready for this ordeal to be over!

Vicrul’s approach was preceded by his stench. Kylo cursed loudly when his brother-in-law sat down beside him and released a drunken belch. Then Vicrul’s hefty hand was grabbing Kylo’s shoulder, digging in to the point of pain. He slapped Vicrul’s hand away.

“Get thee back to your place at table, Vicrul. You’ve assuredly more drinking to do,” Kylo grumbled irritably.

Vicrul laughed, belching again. “Would ye like to know what it has come time to do?” he asked, much too merrily. Kylo could smell him get closer. Felt a firm finger jabbing at his upper arm. “‘Tis time for the bedding cere—ceremony.” Vicrul hiccupped and shifted beside him. “What say ye, Knights of Ren?” he called out for the whole hall to hear. “Let us get the man to his bed with his maid!”

A roar rose up around him. Kylo shot his hand at Vicrul’s face, caught the man’s throat in it. He squeezed and bared his teeth when he heard Vicrul choke. “Leave off,” he warned in a deadly tone.

Vicrul knocked his hand loose and laughed again. “Your lord is keen, lads. Oh, aye! Come, wench, refresh Lord Ren’s goblet. He’ll be needing all his strength for what’s to come.”

Lady Rey whimpered beside Kylo. Aye, he’d heard her sound of fear. The drunken sots around them, hollering and making merry, threatening them with a traditional bedding ceremony… He needed to get her away from this rabble.

“Vicrul!” Kylo growled. “Cease!”

He reached for Rey and set her on her feet, shielding her with his body. He addressed the hall. “‘Tis no need for—”

“The Knights of Ren will do the job honorably,” Vicrul boomed. The men gathered round, all shouting their affirmations. Damnation! The night was about to turn foul.

He faced his new wife and whispered most earnestly, “Lady, if you value your hide unseen by these louts, you’ll get thee abovestairs now. Run, Rey. I’m behind you.”

But the lady would not move. Frozen in place. He heard the men moving round to get them. Kylo jostled her, having not a clue where he’d put his hands. “Go, Rey. Go before something worse than this teasing happens.”

She finally must have seen reason and started away from him. He followed as well as he could. He grasped his sword and slid it from the confines of the scabbard. Rey screamed ahead of him, then he heard her fall. She screamed again when he found her with his free hand. The poor girl was beyond terrified. He could not reassure her at the moment. He had a full hall of rowdy vassals ready to see their lordship’s wedding night consummated.

He held onto Rey and swung his sword wide, keeping all his men at bay. No one would be foolish enough to get too close. He shoved Rey to the steps, backing up, step by step with her. Sword pointed below. He would see to his men tomorrow, have them punished for their sport with him.

Finally up the stairs, the raucous crowd close behind them, Kylo dragged Rey to his bedchamber. Bloody hell! The girl was shaking within his grasp. Sobbing as well. There was no chance of comfort. Perhaps he could use her fear to their advantage. The rabble following would not leave them alone until there was solid proof of their consummation.

He couldn’t believe his luck as he swung his heavy door closed and got it barred before his men reached them, dropping his sword to free up a hand in the process. But they were immediately there, slapping on the boards, laughing and calling out obscene instructions on how to properly perform for his new wife.

“Quiet!” he roared at the door.

Vicrul’s voice was loudest out in the hallway. “Oh, aye! Too much noise and our lord may go soft!”

More laughter rattled the door. Then they began pounding on it in earnest. Merciful God, they were going to break it down!

Kylo dragged his wife to the bed and stood her there while he struggled to find the blankets. She continued to sob quietly at his side, but he was set on this task. He dragged the bedclothes aside and smoothed his hand along the linen sheets, making sure the spot was clear and ready for what he was about to do.

He pulled his knife from his belt and Rey yelped.

“Do it again,” he growled low. “Scream like I’m hurting you.”

“Please,” she whimpered.

“I said scream, wench!”

Kylo took his knife and sliced a place on his arm. Rey began shouting, “No! No!”

He shoved her out of the way and blotted his bloody arm on the sheets. He hoped his ruse would satisfy his bloodthirsty men. “Scream once more,” he told her, pulling the sheets from the bed. But Rey only cried. He found her with his inept hands and felt the extent of her fear through her shaking. He could not stomach this.

He tried to get Rey to sit on the bed while he wiped his knife and sheathed it once more. He took his proof to the door and thrust the wad at his men once he’d cracked it open.

Silence fell.

“‘Tis done,” he growled. “Now get to your beds. I’ll not be lenient on the morrow.”

Vicrul seemed to choke on his words. “God’s breath, Kylo,” he rasped in a thin voice.

Kylo heard them all shuffling quietly, no doubt inspecting the sheet.

“Tell me you didn’t hurt her,” Vicrul breathed.

Kylo clenched his jaw, slamming the door and barring it against them. He had wanted none of this. Naught of this marriage. Naught of these feelings of pity for the woman cowering in his room. His arm was beginning to hurt like he’d cut too deeply. And Vicrul, hell fire! His brother-in-law was going to thrash him once he sobered up enough to stand without wobbling. Vicrul most likely believed Kylo had done his new wife an intolerable injury. He winced, thinking that the amount of blood on the sheet must have been too much and too gruesome a sight for his men.

He cursed again, hoping they would not show it to Hux. The lad already took him to task over Rey. He rubbed at his eyes and sighed when he heard the men trailing away from the hall outside his chamber.

Kylo turned to start a fire, but his foot stumbled on his sword. He released a frustrated breath and picked it up. Rey whimpered still from the direction of his bed.

He laid his sword in his customary place for it, then knelt before the hearth, building up the fire. He stood and moved toward his chair.

“Come and warm yourself, girl.”

Rey did not move.

Kylo turned his head in her direction and said, “I’ve no intention of bedding you this night. You needn’t worry overmuch about that.”

Rey still did not move.

Well, then, she could very well stay there and freeze. He planned to warm himself and then bed down for the night. And then, possibly, in the morning he’d wake from this hellish nightmare.

Honor! Ha! His wretched honor had gotten him tangled up in this mess. He could have easily chosen a more peaceful path. A less bloody path. He tore at his sleeve and tried to tie it about the wound he’d made.

Kylo flung out his arm in frustration, only to come in contact with another body. He sent that body tumbling. He heard a yelp.

“Hell fire! What’s happened?” he exclaimed.

Shuffling happened. Clothing being righted. “Forgive me, my lord, I only wished to help you.”

Kylo cursed. “Give me some bloody warning next time. If you’ve not deduced by now, I can’t see a damned thing.”

“I deduced,” she whispered.

Well. It was good she had some sense about her. He nodded curtly and sighed.

She still managed to startle him when her icy fingers took hold of his arm. He made a muddle of everything these days. Aye, there was much he could see to by himself, but without sight, there were many tasks that left him in the dark. Having a wife only complicated his situation. He did not need complication. He did not want to feel anything toward her. Yet he wanted to take her cold hands in his and warm them, warm her until she no longer trembled.

He turned his head toward the peaty fire and tried not to think on how nicely she smelled.

“This cut is deep, my lord,” she murmured.

“Bind it tightly, then,” he grumbled.

She worked the cloth too timidly. “Tighter, girl.”

He ended up jerking the ends taut as she knotted them together. When done, she sat there. Too close. Smelling too good. _Hell._

“Why did you do that?” she whispered. He barely heard it.

“Say again?”

“Why did you cut yourself like that?”

“To get them to stop beating the door down.”

That kept her silent. Ah, but silent didn’t mean idle, did it. She no doubt had questions. Questions that he had no desire to answer. He hadn’t the head for conversation this night. And what would he have told her? How Finn had made him vow to take her away from Plutt? That he’d made up his mind to never let another woman into his heart or through his defenses? By God, that terrified him most of all.

Let her think what she wanted. It would be better that way.

“But why did you have to cut yourself, my lord?” she asked.

_Damn it._

“I explained myself,” he groused, hoping she would leave off.

“Nay,” she said softly.

“Why say ye nay?”

“You cut yourself so they would leave us be? I do not—”

“Aye,” he growled, ready to be done and over this. “To have them think I’d bedded you proper.”

“Oh.”

There it was. Understanding. Good. Perhaps now he could be left to his own—

“You did not bed me. Did you?”

Kylo rubbed vigorously at his eyes. The pressure had reached a summit and he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. God save him from maidens who didn’t know an arse from a hole in the ground. Her ignorance and innocence about the marriage bed was another battle for another day.

“Rey,” he said, gathering his storming emotions. But he spoke her name quite gently and without rancor.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Pour us some wine.”

She at least followed orders without contest. She soon put a cup into his hand. He took a long sip and rested back against his chair. It would be nice to find some comfort this night.

Rey still hovered by his side. He heard her sip the wine. Later she set her empty cup down.

“Rey,” he said quietly. Again.

“My lord?”

“Go to bed.”

He heard a strangled breath leave her. “You said—”

“I know what I said,” he interrupted. “I will not be joining you. Go to bed and cease with your prattling. Saints, you’re as bad as Hux. Go on, now, while my temper is sweet, for it will not last.”

She left his side with utmost haste.

Kylo tossed out his thick fur by the hearth and settled there, squeezing his forehead to try to relieve the pain. After a while, the pressure eased. But the soothing sounds of the crackling fire were soon interrupted again.

“My lord?”

He groaned. The only acknowledgement he could muster.

“Will you go to your… your tower chamber?”

“Nay.” He rolled over toward the heat and tucked the heavy fur around his shoulders. “Go to sleep, Rey.”

She rustled about in the bed for a bit. When all that stopped, he took a relieved breath.

“Thank you, Lord Ren.”

His eyes flew open, even though he couldn’t see. _What’s this, now?_ He didn’t want her thanks. Hell, he didn’t even want her in his chamber. He grit his teeth. He would not go back on his word. She would stay. She would be under his protection. She had no reason to fear.

But that was all. She could go back to her own room on the morrow. He hadn’t the stomach to be bedding anyone at the moment. He would need an heir eventually. But that could wait a few years. Perhaps by then his sight will be returned. That was his hope. That was all he longed for. That was all he could think on, waking up each day, and each new day as dark as the day before.

And what of Rey, there, in his bed, thanking him like he’d done her some favor? From Plutt’s foul prison to the den of the Devil. Oh, aye. Her living conditions may have improved, but what of other improvements?

There was no love for the poor girl in either circumstance.

_Hell._

He couldn’t think on that. Not now. Not until things changed. Not until there was hope for himself.

How could he offer any hope to her when there was no hope in sight?

⁜ ⸎ ⁜


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Rey had passed a night in the Devil’s bedchamber in complete and utter safety. And she’d woken up alone.

She did not know if she could trust her momentary contentment. Would it last? Would safety be a sure, solid, daily assurance?

Considering where she was, and who she was now married to, it was best not to rely on such a fleeting condition as safety.

For the moment, in the quiet of the morning, with a fire blazing warmly in the hearth, she could count herself safe.

Lord Ren hadn’t grown horns and his eyes hadn’t turned blood-red. He could certainly bluster and dominate and rage with his voice and his words, but his actions had spoken rather loudly and rather poinginiantly to Rey.

Understanding some of his actions, however, was quite another matter. Was his work with his blade on his arm some devilish ritual required to complete a dark spell? And throwing the bloody sheet from his chamber? She shuddered, wondering if it was supposed to have been her own arm he would have cut under different circumstances. She was grateful he hadn’t turned the blade on her. Saints, but she’d been terrified. In the great hall, when she’d fallen and he’d clattered after her, dark and menacing, sword drawn, she had been certain her death was imminent.

But not so. Things weren’t as she’d initially thought they were.

Her plans to flee to Coruscant held less appeal this morn.

Perhaps staying in Exegol would be better. She did not need much. She could survive on very little. She could live here and stay out of everyone’s way. Hux seemed to care for her, and she had developed a tentative fondness for his company. Sir Vicrul was a possible ally, though he’d said he had no intentions of coddling her like a nursemaid. They might be of a mind to lend her aid should she ever need it. All she wished, for now, was to escape the notice of Lord Ren.

Merciful heavens! That was easily done, wasn’t it? She was shocked still by the news. Of course she could escape his notice! He wouldn’t be able to even see her to beat her. She was morbidly grateful for such a blessing.

Rey startled from her thoughts when Hux called through the chamber door. She’d slept in her wedding gown, and though she was well-rested, she was sure she looked rumpled and out of place. She opened the door for him and he greeted her with an unsure smile and a trencher of food.

“Lord Ren sent me with a meal. He said you would likely rather remain here.” The lad’s eyes seemed to be all over the place, as if he could not decide where to rest them. Rey frowned at his uneasy behavior.

He entered and set the tray on the table near the hearth. He finally turned and studied her intently.

“Are you well, my lady?” he asked very softly. His tall, slim frame seemed to curl over as he asked her.

She blinked and nodded, puzzled by his hesitancy.

The boy opened his mouth to say more, but he would not unloose his tongue. He looked away to his feet and shuffled the toe of his boot along the floorboard. This was the first time she’d been in his presence when he wasn’t filling the silence with his enthusiastic chatter.

“Hux, whatever is the matter?” she asked. On the heels of that, she began to worry. Perhaps she had done something amiss. “Is… Have I angered his lordship? I did not mean to!”

He shook his head quickly. “My lady, nay. He was only angered with Sir Vicrul for his impertinence at the end of the feast lasteve.”

“Oh,” she said, still unsure.

“My lady,” he said, his voice going quiet. “It is you I am concerned for. I… Lasteve...” Hux looked away, ill at ease. He cleared his throat and met her eyes shyly. “Are you unhurt, Lady Rey?”

It took a moment before she realized the nature of the question he was asking. “Oh. Oh! Of course. ‘Twas not me who was hurt. Lord Ren made that nasty cut on his arm, you know.”

Hux’s brow crinkled up. “He did? His arm?”

“Aye,” she bobbed her head. “He bled on the sheet. I supposed he had some dark magic spell to complete and most likely did it here because we could not make it up to his tower chamber. I’ve been contemplating the deed for a good portion of the morning. I know not what he intended for the whole business to accomplish.”

Hux regarded her with a slack jaw. “Ma...Magic spell?” he stuttered.

“Aye. I’d begun to wonder if all the rumors were true, about his being a warlock, since I learned of his blindness last… Oh! Does he wish to regain his sight? Is that what all the devilish deeds are for? I’ve no idea what goes on up in that tower, but I know he goes there to practice his dark arts. He is protected by his Hound from Hell. Oh, doesn’t he know it does no one any good to bargain with evil forces to get back something that is lost?” Rey fluttered her hands at her side and huffed a sigh.

The lad remained silent and still, blinking slowly.

“I’ve said too much,” she whispered, her countenance melting. “Please, Hux, tell no one of the things I’ve spoken.” She stopped and wound her fingers together. “I suppose you’re easy to talk to and you may be the first person I trust here in Exegol,” she finished with a slight nod and a nervous smile.

“My lady,” he said, taking her hand and bowing over it. “You honor me.” He stood again and his face had turned red, contrasting with his light red hair, and making his blue eyes even more blue. “However I may serve you, only say the word.”

“Thank you for your kindness to me, Hux.” She gave him a genuine smile.

He sighed and quickly bowed to her again and left her to her meal.

In all her remembered life, she’d never had so pleasant a meal enjoyed in absolute peace.

When she finished breaking her fast, she explored Lord Ren’s chamber. She desired to know more about the man. She looked through all his belongings to learn the measure of him.

In truth, there wasn’t much to see. He owned nothing of frivolity. The tapestries in his room were worn and old, good for naught but keeping out the chill. It troubled her that the master of the house should have such shabby furnishings in his chamber. Someone should see to it that his chamber be outfitted comfortably and appropriately for his station. As his wife, she supposed that was now her duty.

She spent the afternoon arranging things in a pleasing manner. She would have to ask where she could get new tapestries and have them installed properly to cover the dank stone walls. She truly wanted to be of help. Perhaps Lord Ren would look on her fondly as a sister. Thinking of such made her remember her dear stepbrother Finn.

Finn had tournied with Lord Ren and before that, they had both squired together. Finn had always brought her a special trinket when he had the chance to visit her at Niima. Rey had treasured each of his gifts, until Plutt learned of them. As soon as Finn returned to his duties, Plutt took the gifts, and with a twisted sort of pleasure, destroyed them while Rey was made to watch.

That is why she’d had to be twice as attentive to keep her sword a secret from Plutt.

As the day drew to a close, Rey sent for wine and refreshment so that Lord Ren could enjoy his rest by the fire. She thought it a fitting way to relay her gratitude for his mercy the night before.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Kylo put his men through their paces that day, doubly hard. They’d all ate and drank and made merry on the night of his wedding, waking to the new day with aching bellies and pounding heads. He took immense pleasure out of hearing them groan and moan in the lists.

Someone approached. With a sniff, he knew exactly who it was.

“What is it, Vicrul?”

“How do you do that?” he groused.

“What?” Kylo asked.

“You always know ‘tis me.”

Kylo shook his head and sighed. “No one’s personal sty smells quite like yours.”

His brother-in-law harrumphed. All had been forgiven that morning when Vicrul had apologized for his actions. Though Kylo was almost certain he’d broken the man’s nose when they’d wrestled. A little petty revenge agreed with his constitution.

“How fares Lady Rey?” Vicrul asked carefully.

“I do not wish to discuss her,” Kylo growled.

“I wish to,” he returned. “I saw the sheet last night. ‘Twas feckin’ ghastly.”

Kylo pushed Vicrul from his path. “‘Tis no business of yours.”

“I like the girl. Have a care for her, man, she’s such a delicate thing.”

Kylo whirled on Vicrul. “I’ve given the girl my name. I have given her shelter. She’ll have anything she needs. Beyond that, it matters not that I have a care for her. I’ve done my duty.”

With that, Kylo stalked off back to the great hall. Every step calculated and memorized. By the saints, but Vicrul could shove his caring in someone else’s face. He didn’t need to care for Rey.

He sat by the fire in the great hall and remembered a time when Vicrul had cared for him after his wounding. Kylo had lain three months recovering in his bed. It had cost him another month further to be able to sit up without retching and constant nausea. And another month after that to come to terms with the fact that his sight was not returning. And perhaps he’d spent another month wallowing in self-pity. He’d have gladly died that final month. Without his eyes, he’d seen no reason to keep on living.

Vicrul had been the one to drag his arse out of bed. Oh, and Kylo had been cruel to him. He’d cursed his dead wife and cursed his brother-in-law with enough venom and malice to chase a lesser man away. But Vicrul had been unmoved. He’d tormented Kylo enough each day that he’d finally been given a reason to get out of bed in the mornings: to beat the shite out of Vicrul. In truth, he owed his life to Vicrul because he would have wasted away a long time ago had it been up to himself.

He slumped over his knees and felt the warmth of the hearth on his face. He could remember the light of flickering fire. The glowing logs as they sparked and charred. He remembered how the low light of an evening fire looked as it had played over Phasma’s pale hair. How it warmed her flawless skin. He’d found that woman so beautiful. He’d been lost to her the moment he set eyes on her.

At Vicrul’s invitation, he’d visited Abraxas. He’d taken one look at Vicrul’s sister and that had been all he’d needed. He’d never seen a woman like her. No man was worthy of her. But she had bent down from her angelic position and had given Kylo the kind of attention a man craved from such a gorgeous creature. Teasing, flattering, setting her hooks in him.

He’d been a fool for her. He’d courted her and married her within a year. And he lavished her with all that she’d wanted. His wealth and his heart had been at her disposal.

And he’d been so easy for her to dispose of.

All her beauty had served to do was blind him to the foul creature she truly was on the inside. His blindness would have served him better had he suffered from it before he’d met Phasma.

He vowed he wouldn’t love again.

He stalked out of the hall and up the stairs to his chamber, thinking it would be a good time to call for a bath. He had no intention of smelling as rank as Vicrul.

He took four large steps inside his bedchamber and his feet tangled with something in his path. He couldn’t catch himself from falling. Down he went, hollering in surprise, but the pain that splintered through his skull was his last thought before the darkness he’d grown accustomed to burst into a thousand fiery colors and went dark again.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Rey saw it all with a sickening kind of horror. Her new husband bursting into the chamber. His confident stride interrupted by a stool she had placed in his path. The heavy wooden trunk she’d shifted to the side of the stool absorbed the tremendous blow of Lord Ren’s head as he’d fallen like a great stone from a great height.

And the giant man continued to lay where he fell, body awkwardly splayed, his head now bleeding on the floorboards.

He was not moving.

Merciful God! She’d killed him. She’d killed him with her utter stupidity! How could she be so dimwitted? The man was blind, of course he wouldn’t be able to see the changes she’d so proudly made for him. And all her toil had served to do was build an impassable gauntlet with hidden obstacles inside his personal chamber.

She crawled to her husband’s body and gently pushed on his shoulders. He weighed too much for her to roll him over easily. Even his muscled arm was heavy, but she managed to pull him over with his arm so she could see his face. Blood flowed from a jagged cut on his forehead. Her hands trembled as she smoothed his long black hair out of the way. She needed to staunch the flow of blood from the wound. The first bit of cloth she could put her fumbling hands on was a tunic of some kind. She pressed it against his forehead and prayed.

“Please do not be dead. I never meant to kill you. I never even meant to hurt you,” she warbled.

Lord Ren finally stirred beneath her and she sobbed in relief. His eyes flew open and he flinched, turning his head, squinting and blinking, until his dazed eyes seemed to sharpen. On her face. Like a hawk eyeballing its prey. It was unnerving and Rey’s feelings of relief dissipated. His large hand struck out and latched around her throat.

“Who are you?” he gritted from between his clenched teeth.

Rey struggled, trying her best to push his hand away from her throat. But his arm held her like steel. “Release me,” she rasped.

“Who are you?” he growled, shaking her.

She gasped and managed to say, “Your wife.”

Some of the fight seemed to melt from him as his bloody face changed into a shocked expression. “You lie,” he breathed.

She was finally able to escape his grip. On her feet, she flew from his chamber. She nearly knocked Hux over in her haste, as he suddenly appeared in her way, but she side-stepped his hands and his questions. She had to get away. Lord Ren would surely beat her now. She barred the door to her own chamber and looked about for some answer, some course of action to remedy the trouble she now found herself in.

A heavy fist pounded on her door. Her heart jolted in her breast. Beatings from her stepfather had been bad. She had a premonition beatings from Lord Ren would be far worse than any punishment Plutt’s hand had dealt her.

“Open the door.”

She sucked in a breath. That deep voice, much too calm, set her bones to shaking. A ruse. She knew that game. Plutt had acted in much the same way, calm, assuring, only to get her to open the door to him so he could beat her until she nearly suffocated.

“Open the door, Rey.”

Nay, she would not! She scrambled to the trunk and attempted to open it twice before she succeeded. She took her sword from the bottom and clutched the hilt in both her hands, swinging to face the door.

She would not cry. She would stand and face her doom, though she would do it with shaking hands and chattering teeth.

More knocking. She shook her head, remembering the rage in his expression. He would surely kill her for what she had done. Just as he’d killed his first wife. A tear slipped past her eyelashes.

“Rey, come and open the door.”

“I will not!”

“Please.”

What did he say? It was too soft a word for Lord Ren. “What?” she asked.

“I said ‘please,’ damn it!” The door trembled as if kicked by a sizable boot. “We must have a talk, woman, and I will break down this door to accomplish it.”

“I… I have a sword! You shall feel its sting!”

There was mumbling between men outside that was soon drowned out by the sound of wood splintering. Three hard blows and the door flew wide, slamming against the wall. Lord Ren, tall, bloodied, with an ominous look upon his face, stepped inside.

Rey whimpered, and could never recall being so frightened in all her life. All the years of enduring her stepfather’s wrath seemed easy in the face of this new terror.

She fell to her knees and dropped her sword. She covered her face with her quaking hands, certain she did not want to see the blows coming. 

Moments passed and nothing happened. The waiting was almost too much to bear.

Warm, gentle hands cupped her shoulders. She gasped and wrenched her hands from her face. Lord Ren had settled on his knees in front of her. She knew not what he was doing. His closeness confused her. His bloody brow was low and tight over his eyes and his generous lips were pressed together. He swallowed and left his hands on the backs of her arms.

What game did he play? If she let her guard down, it would only hurt worse when he chose to strike.

“Never,” he began, voice low and adamant, “bar a door to me again. Nothing angers me more. And do not change the way I have my chamber arrayed. I have it that way because it pleases me. Do you understand me, lady?”

She could only bring her eyes to watch his whiskered chin and upper lip as he spoke to her. It was a most unique style of facial hair, but in that moment, she believed he wore it well. Odd what her terror allowed her to see, to focus on.

“Rey, did you hear what I said?” he asked.

Still trembling, she raised her eyes. They landed on the wound on his forehead. “You bleed still,” she whispered. A few more tears leaked from her eyes. “Forgive me,” she breathed.

And Lord Ren did the absolute last thing she ever expected him to do. He brought her head to his chest and closed his arms around her.

He was hugging her. Rey, stunned and at a loss, began to sob.

She cried harder than she ever had before.

And all the while, Lord Ren rubbed her back in soothing, circular motions with his large hand.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

“Would you like to know what she’s done, my lord?” his squire asked as he wrapped the wound on Kylo’s aching head.

Kylo kept his eyes closed while Hux tended him. He was still shaken by the events of the evening. By the saints, he didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t believe it. Not yet.

“What has she done, then?” he asked, curious to know what the lad had to say about his wife’s activities in his chamber.

“As you likely deduced for yourself, she rearranged the entire room. My lady has a good eye. Things have been set up for utmost comfort as well as utility. Your armor is now by the door. Your trunks have been packed neatly. There are extra furs covering the cold floors. And by the hearth, she has set up the table for your meal. The wine is warming by the fire. Bread and butter in the trencher. ‘Tis something my mother would do for my father,” Hux mused. “Ah,” he said. “And she has plumped your pillows as well.”

“Why did she do it?” Kylo asked.

“To please you, my lord.”

Kylo grunted and cracked his eyes open. Bloody hell, but his head pained him. “Best to put it all back where it was, aye? I do not wish to learn where everything is meant to be placed again.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

While Hux restored his chamber to the way it was arranged before his wife had changed it, Kylo sat by the fire and blinked. He tested each eyelid one at a time. He turned his face away from the flame and cracked his eyes open and closed again.

He was having trouble believing what was happening.

First, the pain of his tumble must have caused him to faint. When he’d come to, someone had been hovering over him, pressing down on his head. It was a woman. He’d looked up and seen the face of a woman. The bleary face of a woman.

He took her for an enemy at first glance. He’d been felled like a tree and he’d opened his eyes to search for the one who had wielded the axe. There was no way for him to have known who she was. Until he’d nearly choked an answer from her.

Rey.

Then his eyes, stinging from the new light, began to focus, and began to clear, just as a dreary fog would dissipate from the sea once the sunlight chased it away.

Hux said Lady Rey had the finest set of eyes he’d yet seen. And now Kylo had seen them for himself. Dark green and gold. An impression, mostly. He’d been too shocked by his vision’s sudden return to comprehend all his eyes were seeing for the first time in over a year and a half.

His first look at his wife and she’d been terrified. Of him.

Aye, he’d been mightily angered. He was still in pain. But, mercy of mercies, if knocking a fresh hole in his head didn’t set things aright inside his eyes. He could not be angry about this new consequence of her actions.

But he was afeard it was too soon to tell. Too soon to hope that he’d been healed. Best to wait and see what happened on the morrow. What if he woke up in darkness again?

He couldn’t tell Hux. Hadn’t indicated to his wife that he could actually see her when he went to her room and found her in a pitiful state upon the floor. Hell fire, but the girl was terrified. Of him. Again.

Instead of yelling, instead of shouting her head off as he was wont to do, he’d sunk to her level and spoken to her gently. He’d watched what he could see of her face as he’d done so. He’d seen those clear gemstone tears fall. She asked his forgiveness and he’d hugged her to him. It felt like the good and right thing to do.

But he did not know if she feared his reprimand or the hug more, because she had not stopped sobbing since. He could hear her through the walls still.

He’d been told that his wife lacked beauty. Kylo wasn’t so sure that was true, now that he’d laid working eyes on her. From what he’d seen? Well, he knew as well as anyone the eyes could play tricks on a man. Of that he was certain. He knew the lies beauty could hide. He cared not if she was beautiful or as ugly as Vicrul’s stinking pits.

If his sight remained when next he awoke, he planned to get a better look at her to determine the truth for himself.

They’d been wed a full day and the girl had certainly taken no time at all to turn his life upside down. Or, if he were being honest, rightside up.

He snorted. He’d vowed to keep his heart safe from the wench, now he was contemplating whether or not to kiss her for her unfortunate placement of the footstool in his chamber.

When Hux had finished his tasks and hied off to his bed for the night, Kylo remained awake. His head continued to pain him, but his eyes continued to see. He knew the hour grew late, but he was almost afraid to close his eyes.

He stood and left his chamber, only to come back and light a candle to carry with him. He stopped by Rey’s busted door. She had ceased her cries some time earlier. Her crying had unsettled him fiercely, most certainly upsetting his peace.

He supposed she had reason to fear him. His reputation as a fierce warrior was known far and wide. There were other colorful rumors circling about him that only added to his formidable legend. She would learn for herself what was true and what were no more than ghoulish tales.

And she would learn that he would never raise a hand against her. Not that he particularly cared what the girl thought about him. He did not wish to care.

Yet his feet carried him into her chamber. It was dark and cold. He cursed silently. The girl had been too out of sorts to see to her own comfort.

Kylo took his candle to her hearth and worked up the blaze. The poor girl was most certainly on the verge of freezing. As the fire crackled and sent its low light to every corner of the chamber, he looked to the bed to see if she was well covered up.

His lady was not in her bed.

He found her huddled over her sword on a fur upon the floor. Damned foolish child.

Perhaps her sword brought her a measure of comfort. He sighed.

When he reached down to lift her, she stiffened in his hands. He shushed her before she could open her mouth. “Do not scream. My head cannot bear the pain.”

She remained silent, but her breathing came in gasps.

“In to bed with you,” he said, bringing her to her feet.

“Please,” she begged, tugging away from his hands.

“Cease. I will see you safely abed before I leave the chamber. Come,” he said, leading her to her bedside. He pulled back her blankets and placed her beneath them. She trembled still, he could see by the low light that she remained frightened of him. He tucked her in and took her delicate hand in his own. He stroked it softly, only hoping to soothe her into relaxing. It was something he remembered doing for Hux when he’d first come to squire with him as a little boy. Hux had missed his mother and father terribly. The soothing gesture had settled him enough that the boy would drift off to sleep.

And the gentle motions worked for his wife. She stubbornly found sleep and her hand softened and warmed in his own. He was able to study her in the low light. She had long dark hair that spilled wildly across her pillow. And she was as thin as Hux had described her. Kylo would have to make certain she was fed well. From what he could tell of her face, it looked as if she’d spent her time on a bloody battlefield. She had more scars than he did. He couldn’t be precise with only the light of the fire.

He knew he should leave her side. He’d stayed for longer than he should have.

He knew he was only prolonging the inevitable. Sleep would claim him.

This night, when he closed his eyes, he hoped the darkness wouldn't claim him again come morning.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

“Might I have a bath brought up?” Rey asked Hux the next morning.

She’d passed a strange night in strange dreams, all centered on the man who was her husband. She was not well rested. The last days had been terrifying and eventful and she was in desperate need of a wash.

Hux had settled her morning repast on a table and turned to her. He seemed as subdued as she.

“Certainly, my lady. Lord Ren has called for a bath this morning. He is not feeling himself, I fear.”

Rey’s face fell. She could well imagine what he must be suffering, all because of her. “I have caused my lord so much pain since we wed. I am sorry for it.”

“My lady,” Hux entreated, coming to her side. “His Lordship has suffered many injuries throughout his lifetime. He is a man of action. He will be set to rights soon enough. Do not fret, aye?”

Rey nodded sadly.

“And when Lord Ren has finished his bath, you may go to his chamber and make use of the washtub. I shall have the kitchen lads bring up hot water to warm the bath when you are ready.”

She frowned. “I do not wish to disturb him this morn. ‘Twould only pain him the more,” she said.

“Nay, my lady. My lord would welcome your company.”

Rey was not so certain about that. But she agreed to the plan and picked at her meal, the joy of eating it had lessened somewhat since the previous morning.

Hux knocked on her splintered door as she was sorting through the garments that had been given to her. She found a chemise, hose, a kirtle and surcote she could wear.

“Lord Ren has finished. Shall I have the water brought up?” he asked.

“Aye,” she smiled softly. “Thank you, Hux.”

He grinned. “‘Tis a pleasure to be of service, my lady.”

He disappeared again and Rey carried her garments to Lord Ren’s chamber. She did not knock, thinking Lord Ren had already left to perform his duties for the day. She pushed the door open and looked for the bath. There wasn’t sufficient light, as the shutters were closed to keep out the chill of the morning. All the changes she had made to the chamber the day before had been restored to their previous state.

Finally, her eyes landed on the washtub and...

_Oh..._

Her husband had, indeed, finished his bath, but he had not left his chamber. He was standing, naked as a babe, by the fire.

“Oh…” she breathed, eyes locked on his glistening skin as the light of the fire licked over him.

Lord Ren’s head turned immediately in her direction. And the rest of his body followed.

Rey knew she should look away. But her eyes were drawn to his marvelous form. Muscled and sharp, taut and firm. Big, broad shoulders, brawny arms that had held her so gently; a strong chest stacked on top of rippling abdominals which trailed downward, led by a grouping of black hair to his man parts. Rey had never seen a man’s parts before.

She was flaming red in the face, and she was glad Lord Ren couldn’t see that she was staring at him. Captivated by him.

“Aye?” he asked.

Rey blinked and kept her eyes closed. “I… I’ve come for the bath.” Her voice wavered weakly.

Moments passed. Her eyes fluttered open against her will. 

“Hand me those braies, Rey.”

He pointed toward the clothes folded in a chair. Rey swallowed hard and set her garments aside so she could help her husband. She picked up the linen braies and gently grasped his hand so he could take them from her. And she did her best not to stare at his parts.

“Shall I turn about so that you may inspect the other side?” he asked her, still holding the braies in his hand.

Rey sucked in a breath and turned away from Lord Ren. “Forgive me, my lord.”

“Do you think me fine to gaze upon?” His voice had dropped much lower.

“Aye.” Rey blinked, realizing what she’d said. “I mean, how does your head fare this morn?”

He chuckled behind her. “Why? Do you plan to lay another trap at my feet?”

Her shoulders slumped. “No, my lord. I regret the trouble I have caused you.”

She heard him moving behind her. She peeked to see that he’d pulled his braies on and had covered up his parts.

Hux opened up the chamber to the kitchen lads, who hurried over with steaming buckets and poured them into the washtub. He produced a bar of scented soap and a sponge for Rey’s use. She had a huge smile on her face when they left.

And Lord Ren was still standing there in nothing but his linen braies.

“Do you mean to stay?” she asked him, and took another sniff of the sweet-smelling soap.

“Why wouldn’t I? ‘Tis my chamber.”

“Oh.” She supposed it did not matter. He couldn’t see her. “I shall bathe and try not to be a bother,” she said, untying the laces of her dress.

He only grunted and took a seat at his chair near the washtub. By the light of the fire she could see the angry, scabbed wound on his head and how black and blue his forehead had become. And why did it seem like his expressive brown eyes were following the movements of her hands? She waved her hand furtively near his face, feeling mildly suspicious. But Lord Ren only settled deeper into his chair, seeming to stare through her.

She felt foolish for thinking he could see her as she removed her gown and chemise. She lifted her arms and wound her hair up and over her shoulder before she sunk into the warm water. At the same time, she heard a loud crack and a crash.

Rey peeked over the edge of the tub. Lord Ren was laying on the floor, spewing a foul stream of curses, holding the broken arm of his chair.

“My lord? Are you in need of aid?”

He stood as if enraged. Rey drew back into the water and watched Lord Ren chuck the broken chair arm into the fire with uncanny accuracy. She shut her mouth and grabbed the bar of soap Hux had been so thoughtful to bring her. But her hand was slippery upon it and when she applied pressure to it, the bar went flying, right into the side of Lord Ren’s foot.

“Oh! My lord, do not move. The soap… you may fall. Again.” She leaned forward, half hanging out of the tub as she reached for the bar.

Lord Ren bent over and found the soap without any help. With a sigh, he brought it to her but did not release it.

He sank into a squat behind her and held his other hand out. “Give me the sponge,” he rumbled.

“My lord, I do not—”

“Sponge. Now.”

Rey turned to see his face, which was set quite stern. She did not wish to anger him further. She reached for the sponge and placed it in the large hand that waited near her shoulder.

His thick arms plunged into the water on either side of her. Rey drew her arms together, hunching in on herself, suddenly nervous and strangely affected by his nearness. He leaned forward, his arms circling her, and his head nearly beside hers when he began to lather the soap against the sponge.

He started scrubbing the sponge along her shoulder. Rey took a shaky breath and moved her hair out of the way.

“I’m perfectly capable of bathing myself,” she told him softly.

“And I do what I please,” he spoke deeply at her ear. A shiver ran through her.

He pushed her forward and moved the sponge to the back of her neck. She noticed how he paused and heard him suck in a sharp breath. Then his fingers spread wide over her scarred skin. The broadest part of her back was mottled with rows and stripes of raised welts. The skin had healed that way.

“Merciful God,” he breathed.

Rey tensed even more, ashamed. He may not be able to see what had been done to her, but he could surely feel it. He would surely come to think of her as damaged. She was not beautiful to begin with, and the scars that she bore would give a telling story even to a blind man.

Rey bit her lip against the emotion that flooded her. Since learning of Lord Ren’s blindness, she’d been almost happy that he would not know how she looked. Her stepfather made it known plain enough how unpleasant she was to look upon. She was sure her new husband would find her just as repugnant as Unkar claimed should he ever actually see her face.

She could imagine his horror at noticing her scars. He likely found them disgusting. It was a thought she did not wish to bear.

Rey did not understand why he hadn’t punished her lasteve for injuring him so severely. Instead of using his hands to exercise his wrath, he’d brought her comfort, baffling as it was. Now, the comfort she needed would be for him to go. The only way she knew how to deal with such strong emotion and vulnerability was to do it alone.

“Please,” she reached back and stopped his hand.

Lord Ren dropped the soap and the sponge in the water behind her. He stood and grabbed for his clothes and left the chamber without even dressing.

Rey watched him go and a coldness set deep inside her bones. Aye, ‘twould pain her to know precisely how repulsive Lord Ren would find her. She found him handsome. If his eyes hadn’t failed him, he would not have looked twice at her, and they would have never been wed. It was a truth with which she could do nothing but accept.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Five days had passed since that morning bath.

Five days spent in her chamber avoiding her husband. Not that he’d come to visit. Though Hux had been a regular guest in her chamber. She no longer had thoughts of escape. She had been treated almost kindly at Exegol keep, with regular meals and a warm hearth and a comfortable bed. And Lord Ren had not beat her once.

Too many days spent inside had begun to grow dull. Though she had the sea to view from her window, she wanted a closer look at it.

Her time of hiding had come to an end. Lord Ren had been bellowing about her in the hallway, demanding that she come out and see to her new duties as chatelaine. In truth, she had never received the proper training to be the head of the household. Her experience with the servants at Niima had been dismal and embarrassing. How would Lord Ren’s servants look to her as an authority figure when she had no clue how to go about the business?

But she had no desire to run afoul of her husband, and that spurred her on to do his bidding. She braided her hair and straightened her kirtle before she took the steps down to the great hall. Lord Ren was out of doors seeing to his duties but the servants were lazing about as if there weren't any pressing tasks to be completed. A few of the scullery wenches gazed at her with withering stares. Remembering how she’d been bullied by Plutt’s servants made her lose heart. It was her right to demand respect as the lady of the keep, but Rey decided to leave that battle for another day.

She escaped the great hall with all haste and stepped into the chilled morning air. There was plenty of activity in the courtyard. There were children playing—children that had escaped Lord Ren’s appetite. She laughed to herself, ashamed she’d listened to and half believed such a bloody tale about the Devil of Exegol.

Up ahead, a gathering of men were raucously cheering and clapping. They had circled around some event. Rey decided to see what was happening. Through the crowd, two men were wrestling. Not something that would usually pique her interests. But a flash of familiar light red hair caught her eye. Hux? Was someone making sport out of her young friend?

Sir Vicrul blocked her view with his bulk. He peered down at her with a slight frown. She gave him a little smile. He turned back to the match, but made room for her to see the fighters.

_Oh…_

Lord Ren wrestled with his squire. Her eyes were drawn to his upper body, completely uncovered. Like that day she’d walked into his chamber and he’d been naked. Now he was putting his fine form to good use. Had it been anyone else, she wouldn’t have given the match another thought. But her husband made her stop and look her fill.

And the man moved beautifully. Lunging and twisting, grappling with Hux when the lad came too close. It was a wonder he could do such a thing without sight.

“You fight like a serving wench, Arkanis. Take him down!” Sir Vicrul bellowed above her head to encourage Hux.

Hux did not hold back in the fight. Though Hux was tall, he’d not yet grown into his bulk. He was only able to push Lord Ren a step backward. All the rowdy knights and onlookers had a laugh at Hux’s expense, and the boy burned with embarrassment. Lord Ren smirked at the jesting, but it only took a smooth move with his stout arms to pin Hux until the lad could not move. Hux made a signal for release and Lord Ren let him go, and began walking to the other side of the circle of men.

Hux did not seem to be finished with the fight. Rey saw the movement from the corner of her eye and nearly opened her mouth to call out to her husband to be on his guard. But there was no need for her to watch her husband’s back. Lord Ren must have anticipated Hux’s move. He had the boy pinned to the ground in a blink.

Rey could only gape.

The men began moving away now that the fight was over. Sir Vicrul paused above her, giving her a long look with one eye. He nodded with a grunt and rumbled, “My lady,” before he left her side.

Then Rey’s attention returned to Lord Ren. He helped Hux to his feet and ruffled his hair. Lord Ren was smiling down at Hux. She’d not seen his face transformed thusly. His brow relaxed, eyes alight, and his teeth were not perfect. The look of gentleness there on his face left a flutter of a strange variety in her belly.

She watched them both chatter from a distance. If Rey wasn’t mistaken, Hux was receiving praise for his efforts. They donned their tunics against the chill air and walked back to the great hall, Lord Ren had his arm slung over Hux’s shoulder. Her stepfather had never shown that sort of affection to his lads in training. Had never given them the kindness of praise or encouragement. Hux’s actions might have earned him a flogging from Plutt, but not so from Lord Ren.

Yet another example of how different Lord Ren was. Another display of his gentleness.

Rey sat down on a stone bench set against the black wall of the great hall. A great hall belonging to the Devil of Exegol. The Scourge of Alderaan. The Destroyer of Crait. Aye, the man’s reputation as a fierce and cruel warlord was well known, even to one as unstudied as herself. He had kicked down her door, only to end up comforting her, and later soothing her to sleep. She had not been beaten in Exegol. It had been a completely safe place for her. And he’d displayed his gentleness with his young squire.

And that smile. What would she have to do to get him to look at her thusly? With kindness and affection? She had the strange desire to trace her finger along the grooves that smile made in his cheeks. That smile made her forget about escape altogether. He was capable of gentleness and affection, would she be on the receiving end in the future?

If it was not meant to be, Rey now had a safe place to live. Aye, her door was in splinters, but no one had entered her chamber who wished her ill. She had a comfortable bed. Warm clothing. Meals to fill her belly.

Rey recoiled into the wall when a giant black wolf came bounding up to her. The Hound from Hell. She whimpered when it sniffed at her boots, then up along her kirtle. The wolf’s cold nose nudged her hand and she braced for a vicious bite. But it licked her instead and plopped its heavy head on her knee.

She released a shaky breath and patted the great beast on the head. He expressed his displeasure with her when she stopped by nosing at her hand again. Rey found her boldness and scratched the wolf behind its ears. Oh, Wolf liked that very much. He laid his heavy weight on her legs. Rey had to use both her hands to satisfy the wolf’s craving for attention.

She patted Wolf one last time, but he wasn’t finished yet. He reared up and put his paws on the bench either side of her and licked her full on the face. Her heart pounded, for she was greatly intimidated by the wolf’s size. But he didn’t seem to mean her any harm. Rey giggled, trying to push the hound away.

“Cease! Please!” she begged, grabbing its fur and pushing him away. “Let me alone, you vicious beast.”

The hound sat back and beat its tail on the ground while its tongue lolled out of its mouth.

“I would wager your master is not so easily subdued,” she said to her new friend.

“You would win that wager,” a deep voice muttered over her shoulder. “Chewie, come.”

Rey glanced up to see Lord Ren at the great hall door. She flushed, realizing what she’d said and that he’d heard.

“You should come inside, lady. You’ll catch a chill,” her husband said without warmth.

Rey stood as he turned away. “My lord?”

He spun and focused his dark stare on her. She stepped back, unnerved by how sharp his eyes were on her face.

“Aye?” he asked impatiently.

“I should l-like to be of some use,” she stuttered, rallying her courage. “If it please you…”

“Aye, do that. Scrub the hall. Torment the servants. All I ask is that you leave me in peace.”

And he was gone, out of the great hall and off to some other adventure before she could speak another word. Chewie hung close to his master’s side. Rey wondered if things would ever be easy between herself and her husband. It did not seem like it would ever be so.

Well, she had leave to do as she wished as long as she didn’t disrupt his lordship’s peace. Whatever that was meant to mean, she wasn’t quite sure. She wrung her shaking hands, not the least bit desirous of dealing with the servants. She did not want to suffer their mocking nor their scorn once she tried to order them about.

A body came flying out of the great hall. Hux caught her before he knocked her over with a quick apology.

“Good day, my lady. You’re looking well. It’s good to see you out and about,” he grinned down at her.

“Thank you, Hux,” she smiled in return.

He seemed to falter as he blinked. But his smile soon returned. “I must be off.” And he took off in the same direction her husband had gone.

Rey held onto the doorway to the great hall and watched the two of them. Hux cared deeply for Lord Ren. And Lord Ren displayed a fatherly type of affection for his squire. How she wished…

She longed for the company of her brother Finn. She missed him terribly. His all-consuming hugs, his teasing and his full attention that he’d lavished on her when he’d been alive and visited her. She might never experience that again and it grieved her. If only she could win Lord Ren’s affection as Hux had. If he only thought of her as a sister, it would be far better than a burden that was apt to disrupt His Lordship’s peace. That’s exactly how it seemed to her at present.

She could not win his affection without first doing something to please him. Finn had always appreciated her efforts to please. Lord Ren may as well. If she were to be useful to the household and to her husband, then she needed to gird her courage about her and confront the servants. She set her chin and, with a firm nod, marched into the great hall and toward the kitchens.

A group of maids were huddled near a fire, talking together. Rey could hear them and she remembered how it was the day she’d learned she was to be wed off to the Devil of Exegol. The memory made her steps falter. Their conversation caught her ear, and she was torn between breaking up their gossip and listening.

“...he’ll put her away.”

“What do you know, eh?” someone else grumbled.

Who were they talking about?

“He didn’t bed her. Much as ‘e might ‘ave tried to prove otherwise. He don’t bed her, he don’t want her.”

“Better for ‘er,” another said. “Might’ve killed ‘er.”

“Watch ‘im send ‘er back to ‘er father. Why keep ‘er? She ain’t useful.”

Rey blanched, but continued to listen.

“Not even a breeder. If she’d conceived, ‘e might’ve kept ‘er.”

“The master ain’t beddin’ nobody, least no females, if’n you catch what I mean.”

The group laughed at that, and spoke of things that curdled Rey’s insides. She covered her ears and fled to her chamber. Her husband planned to send her away? It was true that Lord Ren had not bedded her. He’d not been close to her in a bed. So he’d not bedded her because he did not want her? He’d made certain to tell her not to disturb his peace. He wanted nothing to do with her, not in a bed and not outside of one. And if she proved to be disturbing to his peace? He could send her back to Niima.

Being bedded seemed to be of great importance. Rey wasn’t quite sure she wanted to be bedded by Lord Ren. She’d seen servants and knights at Niima, mouths pressed together, the wench pushed up against a wall, moaning. It seemed a rather uncomfortable business. She had no real knowledge of how the bedding should take place, but she wanted to know. It would have to happen for her to birth an heir. Truly, the greatest use she could be to his lordship would be to produce an heir. Her dowry had been a laughable joke from her stepfather at her expense. She did not know how to direct Lord Ren’s household.

She paced her chamber, awash with worry. Nay, there was no reason for Lord Ren to keep her. Why wouldn’t he send her away? Not unless… not unless she could give him a babe. Oh, aye. She would need to get him abed, ‘twould seem. And she would need to be there with him. That would work, aye? He would do what needed to be done to get her with child and she could have a permanent place in his household.

How would she go about it? Get him drunk? Nay, that might make matters worse. He couldn’t see to do things as it was. And he would need to know who he was getting into bed with.

She opened her window to the vast view of the sea. She closed her eyes against the chilled winds. The sea was powerful and frightening. It made her feel small and insignificant. But she knew that this place, Exegol, was now her home. She had no desire to give this place up. She would do what she must to make her place secure here. He surely would not send away the mother of his child, would he?

The thought of what she had to do to make her standing sure filled her with terror. But she would learn what she must do to bring her husband to her bed and please him there. If bedding were to be as difficult as a beating, then she would rather suffer it at Lord Ren’s hands. She felt ill of a sudden. But she knew what she must do.

She donned a cloak and left her chamber, set on the course she felt she must take.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have run out of memes!  
> Here's the link to create your own: [ Bayeaux Historic Tale Construction Kit](https://htck.github.io/bayeux/#!/)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things.
> 
> ⁜ ⸎ ⁜
> 
> Prepare thyself for a trencher full up of angst.
> 
> ⁜ ⸎ ⁜
> 
> Methinks you are ill prepared for it.
> 
> ⁜ ⸎ ⁜

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Kylo would never know peace again.

He cursed his fresh eyes because all they’d served to do was burn an image of incomparable eroticism on the backs of his lids. A lithe body, backlit by warm, golden fire, arms raised to lift pert little tits. A sweetly arched back, a sweetly rounded arse. Slim legs that he could imagine wrapped tight about his waist.

Bloody feckin’ hell. He couldn’t get to sleep at night for the lance tenting his braies. He’d often wake up in a cold sweat thinking about Rey’s tits and how he wanted to suckle on them.

But then the memory of her scars made his blood run cold. Next time he had Plutt in his clutches, he would squeeze the life out of him. Hell fire, he’d march on Niima with an army of himself to avenge the suffering Rey had been administered by his hand.

He’d been so livid when he’d seen and felt her scarred back, he’d been ready to tear his chamber apart in a rage. As it was, he’d gone bare knuckles with a suit of leather armor to help release his fury.

Days later, his knuckles still stung him, his seething wrath was a constant companion, and the carnal vision of his wife’s body outlined in fire inflamed him.

God’s teeth! But he didn’t want this. Didn’t want to be stirred by the thought of another woman. Didn’t want to have a reason to sympathize with her. Didn’t want to grow to care.

He was determined to keep her at a distance. He’d kill Plutt for her. Bring her the bastard’s head on a platter. He would not, however, serve up his heart to her in like manner.

She had hidden herself away for days, the timid thing. At least she’d come outside that morning. _I would wager your master is not so easily subdued,_ she’d said. Nay, he feckin’ was not. So she wished to subdue him, eh?

_Not today, wench. Not ever._

“My lord?” Hux interrupted his thoughts.

“Aye, lad. What is it now?” Kylo picked up his goblet from the table and sipped at the wine. He’d finally told his squire that his sight had returned, but only after several days of waking to find the darkness hadn’t taken him again. Hux had said he was confident his vision would return, but the lad had grinned all the same. Vicrul had thumped his back and grunted with a nod at the news.

“It would appear that my lady has taken the afternoon to visit the midwife.”

Kylo’s bones seized inside his body before erupting. “She went _where?”_ He slapped his wine back on the table and grabbed Hux by the neck of his tunic.

“The midwife, my lord,” Hux managed to repeat. “She couldn’t be aware that Bazine earns her keep by whoring.”

“Oh, aye, she knows,” Vicrul piped up from his place at the table. “Lady Rey asked me herself where she could find a woman such as Bazine to discuss matters of the bedchamber with.” Vicrul laughed. “Should have seen the look on the poor lassie’s face. Took her a long time to find the guts to speak to me, stuttering and stammering about heirs and gold. Surmised she was lookin’ for a few new tricks to please ye, and she was ready to pay for the knowledge.”

Kylo cut Vicrul with a cold stare. Rey was paying to do what? For what purpose?

“It eases my mind to know the two of you have settled into married life so well. She’s still a meek little chicken, but sounds as if she’s willing to please.” Vicrul winked at Kylo and it only angered him the more.

He flung Hux’s tunic back at his face. “Fetch her from the whore and bring her upstairs to my chamber,” he growled.

Kylo stomped to his chamber seeing things all too clearly now. Aye, she wanted a child, but didn’t want him, not a blind man, as far as she knew. God’s blood! How was it he could fall victim to scheming, cunning bitches, not once, but twice in his life?

His gut clenched when he recalled the last words Phasma had spoken to him.

_You’re not fit for anything but to beg in your own filth out in the market square. No woman will want you. Without your sight, you’re nothing. Less than nothing. Believe me when I say a woman will have no use for a pitiful dog like you. She’ll rob your coffers and seek out a protector who is whole._

Phasma had dug the knife in deep. She had deserted him, left the walls of Exegol to meet her end at the hands of roving highwaymen. If she was of the same mind, Rey would meet the same end as his first wife. But he would be the one to expel her from his sight. He wouldn’t be robbed blind now.

The girl likely planned to get herself with child and leave. A clever way to provide herself with a steady income for the rest of her life. Who knew how deeply her plans may already be running.

But Kylo wouldn’t allow her to prevail. He’d send her away and be rid of her. Hell fire! If he’d only known how treacherous a chit she was, he’d have left off with all his agonizing over her living conditions in Niima. Finn hadn’t been there enough to know the rotted depths of his stepsister’s essence. Aye, but he had absolved himself of any debt to his friend. Rey had brought about all this by her own actions. Kylo spat some foul curses toward his hearth.

Hux knocked and announced that the Lady Rey was in her chamber. Kylo ground his teeth together and shoved Hux out of his way to throw open Rey’s busted door.

“Get out,” he boomed, once he’d stepped inside. He swung his arm wide, gesturing the way to the door. “Get out of this chamber and out of my household. I never want to see you step foot inside my keep again.”

“My lord?” Rey breathed.

“Out!” He stepped toward her. “I’ve no patience for conniving slags who mean to exploit me. You’ll not bear my child. Take nothing but what you have on your back and slither home to your stepfather. Take your paltry dowry with you, I want nothing associated with your name.”

“Oh, please,” she entreated. “I shall do anything. Please.”

Kylo did the unthinkable. The unforgivable. He came at her with his fist raised and shouted, “Go!”

Her delicate face, marred by white scars, flinched hard, anticipating his strike. Frightened green eyes filled with tears. With a tiny sob, the girl ran.

The guile of her. Good that he’d recovered his sight to see her treachery for himself. Summoning tears to soften him. He was glad Finn hadn’t lived to see what his dear sister had become. He knew Finn had loved her.

Kylo could only be thankful he’d not fallen into her trap. It pained him though. She’d not been in his house a fortnight and her betrayal hurt.

He left her chamber and her sweet scent behind. He would never marry again. The line of the Rens of Exegol could die with him. Hux stood gaping in the hall. There. He’d adopt Hux. He wouldn’t need a damned heir from a traitorous woman.

“What in God’s bloody bones have you done?” Vicrul bellowed at him from the end of the hallway. “What did you do to the girl?”

Kylo raised a pointed finger at Vicrul, pouring every bit of venom he possessed into his words. “See that she leaves and give her nothing!”

Vicrul threw up his hands. “Why in seven hells would you want her to leave?”

Kylo bit off a growl and slammed into his chamber.

Vicrul was right on his heels. “By the bloody saints, Kylo, have you lost it? That girl has nowhere to go and no one to go to. You swore to protect her.”

“That was before I found out she was just like my first wife, your sister,” he spat, “the bitch. After my gold. Plotting a course to snag her hooks in me so that I wouldn’t be able to shake her off. It is good I found out about her treachery now before I did something truly ignorant, like bedding her.”

“You haven’t bedded the wench?” Vicrul cawed. “Why are you being so foolish about this? That girl hasn’t done anything to draw your ire. If you haven’t tupped her, why do you think she paid a visit to the village doxy? The girl hadn’t a mother, who else is she to go to with questions when her husband hasn’t performed his duty?”

Kylo tugged at his hair, unwilling to listen to his brother-in-law. He knew what he was doing. He was protecting himself. He refused to go through the same torment again. That girl went to the whore to learn how to seduce him. She believed him blind. Well, he was not.

“Go find her. Bring her back,” Vicrul snarled, pointing backward to the door.

Kylo slid him a dark look. “Enough. I’ll speak no more of her.”

“Kylo—”

“Leave me!”

“Pox rot your arse, you bloody, stinking bastard.” Vicrul nearly took the door off its hinges slamming it closed.

He was finally left alone to think. He swung open the wooden shutters and let the cold sea breeze batter him in the face. It usually soothed him, the touch of the wind, but not now.

Kylo would have the marriage annulled and send the girl back to Plutt. Thanks be to God he didn’t bed the wench. He sat back on his trunk and lost some of that self-righteous anger he’d been plagued with. He doubted his wife had the courage to go farther than the chapel, and with that thought, he was in no rush to go and find her. He would send Hux to fetch her later, after he’d cooled. Vicrul could return her home again to Niima.

_Promise me that if anything happens to me, you’ll take my sister away from Niima. Vow it now, Ren. I beg you._

The memory of Finn’s voice kept pecking at him. But Finn had no idea how his sister had turned out. It was good that he was dead, for learning the truth would have shattered his spirit.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Rey ran and she was not stopped. Out of the hall, through the baileys, across the bridge that connected the island with the mainland, and over the drawbridge. No one concerned themselves with a woman hurrying past as though being chased by the Devil himself. A true indication of how little she mattered in this place. She could fall off the bridge and no one would know or care.

Fear sent her feet flying overground. If Lord Ren were to catch her, he would send her back to her stepfather.

Rey would rather die than be sent home to Niima. She’d rather rot in a ditch than be returned to Lord Plutt.

The only course of action available to her was to go south to Coruscant. She would find the king. She would plead her case, beg mercy.

She ran and ran until she could no longer feel her knees or her feet. Till her chest burned. When she could not go another step, she fell upon the ground and caught her breath. If she could rest but a moment, that was all she would need to keep going. If she could keep this pace all the way south, she would make good time. She would outrun both Lord Ren and Lord Plutt.

A fog clouded up around her, heavy mists from the sea. She pulled herself up and started running again. She could only pray she was still going south. The fog made it difficult to see.

She alternated between running and walking. But her energy waned. She could no longer run after a while. Her feet grew weary and pained. The fog parted and revealed a tall tree. She’d made good time to reach the forest that lay south of Exegol fortress. She fell before the great tree and panted. Her body was heavy and her eyes were heavy. She laid down and piled leaves over her to keep warm.

Aye, just a little rest, now. Her pounding chest and her heaving breaths eased. Even the cold of the day eased. Determination drove her on her quest, but exhaustion stole her off to sleep.

Her sleep was plagued by dreams of a dark-eyed devil with long black hair.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Kylo huddled by the trunk in Rey’s icy, dark chamber, and let the cold punish his flesh. Only the cold kept his mind from sinking further into some manner of hysteria. The churning, unforgiving waves of guilt and fear threatened to take him under and drown him.

The blade he had laid across the tops of his legs was specifically forged for a lady. It was light, of an abbreviated length, and the molded hilt fit a small hand. It was Rey’s sword. A thing she had gripped fiercely that night he’d broken down her door. A thing that Vicrul had said she’d scrapped like a wildcat to keep. A thing that would have offered her some measure of protection had she taken it with her.

But the blade lay idle in her cold chamber while his wife wandered outside the walls of his mighty fortress, without benefit of protection.

Kylo hung his head and despaired. He’d waited too long to send Hux after her. She had not hidden in the chapel like he’d assumed. She wasn’t in the stable or the lists or the hall or the kitchens. She had gone, as though she’d been absorbed into the mists that rolled in off the sea.

He’d come back to her chamber, searching her trunks, sure he’d find a cache of his gold hidden away for when she decided to leave him. He’d found her blade instead, sheathed in a fine leather scabbard, with two precious stones set into the pommel.

Finn had told him that he’d planned to have a sword forged for his stepsister. Kylo had given him a red kyber crystal almost as a jest. He slid his thumb over the cut edges of the embedded crystal. But Finn had been in earnest. Always earnestness when it came to his stepsister. Finn had told him how he’d tried to teach Rey to defend herself, starting out by training her with wooden swords. But she was such a little thing and she would never truly need to know how to fight, because Kylo had vowed to protect her if something ever happened to Finn.

His sight may have returned to him, but Kylo truly was blind in all the ways that mattered. He hadn’t wept when he’d been injured, nor when he thought he’d never see the light of day again. He didn’t weep when his wife cut him into shreds and then left him. He didn’t weep when he’d learned of her death. But the tears that stung his eyes as he clung to Rey’s sword told him what a blind fool he had truly been. Now the woman he’d sworn to his friend that he’d protect was without any of her own defenses.

Alone. No cloak. No weapon. No provisions.

At least Finn was dead and couldn’t track him down and gut him. Draw and quarter him. ‘Twas the least he deserved for letting Rey out of his sight. The girl likely knew not how to tell the east from the west, yet he was ready to stand in accusation of her formulating a plan to ransom his heir.

Kylo had nothing but darkness in him. Was ever ready to let the darkness preside over him. He easily let the darkness blind him. He should not think Rey possessed that same dark nature.

Someone approached. He looked up to see the shadowy outline of his squire in the doorway.

“Aye?” he asked quickly, eager for news.

“The knights have searched the village, my lord. No sign of her. One of the guards on the gate claimed he may have seen someone hurry across the bridge but he could not confirm who.”

Kylo bit off a curse. “Can my men not keep a sharp eye out for who comes and goes through the gates? Hell fire! What word from the other watchmen?”

“I know not, my lord. Let me stir up a fire for you. It grows cold.”

“Nay. I need word of where my wife has disappeared. That is all I require.”

Hux left him to the cold of the chamber and Kylo wrapped Rey’s sword once again and returned it to where he’d found it. He would bring Rey home hale and hearty. She would find that her belongings had not been disturbed. And should she feel the need, he’d let her run him through with her blade.

“Ren!” he heard Vicrul shouting to him from outside the chamber. “Where in seven hells have you gone off to?”

“Here. What have you discovered?”

“Mid-afternoon. She passed through the gates unhindered. The watchmen who saw her assumed she would return. The sun has set. The fog has rolled in. ‘Tis damned treacherous out, but we must search. I’ll rally the knights and anyone else who can help.”

Kylo nodded sharply and clamped his hand on Vicrul’s shoulder. “I’ll be right behind you. I… I should not have…”

“‘Tisn’t me you should be apologizing to,” Vicrul grunted before he turned and left.

Aye, Kylo had much to atone for.

He stepped into action, slinging open the door to his chamber and layering on as many tunics as he could. The night would be cold and he would need the extra cover to share with Rey when they found her. It had been a long time since he’d left his fortress, but he knew the terrain outside his walls; where the dangerous bogs lay, places where the land was split by deep valleys, where the forests found their edge. He was a damn fine tracker, a skill he had honed in Bespin under Lord Calrissian’s training.

As he strapped his sword belt over the tunics, fresh waves of guilt pummelled him. What kind of monster believed a scared child capable of the things he’d accused her of doing? The girl wanted nothing more than a safe place to live her life without fear of constant abuse. Hadn’t Finn made him promise to give her such a safe haven?

Yet his wariness remained. He would never trust another woman. When she was safely returned, he would tell her exactly what he wanted from her and what he did not want from her. She would continue on at Exegol, out of harm’s way, and she would be enlightened that he would not accept any of her plots to seduce him.

And what would an innocent like her know of seduction? Not a damned thing.

And he was an incompetent fool.

Kylo wrapped his cloak about his shoulders and latched the stays. He hurried from the great hall and found Hux watching the knights prepare the search party.

“Come, lad. We’ve a mission of great import ahead of us.”

Hux, stony faced and sullen, gave him a look of utter contempt. “I’m at your command, my lord.”

Kylo’s eye twitched restlessly as the pain he’d suffered in his head for over a year returned a hundredfold. Not only had he failed Rey in the most spectacular of ways, he’d failed Hux. Hell fire, he’d failed his whole household with the way he’d treated his wife.

“Have you something to say, boy?” Kylo asked softly. “Spit it out.”

“Aye.” Hux’s eyes flashed and his face boiled up into a red hue. “Lady Rey is the most kind, most gentle lady I have yet to meet. You have treated her abominably. She wanted nothing more than to please you and you… You… Your head is buried so far up your own arse, what good has regaining your sight done you? ‘Tis done naught, by my reckoning.” Hux turned his face away, clenching his jaw.

Kylo endured his words. Allowed him to speak his mind freely.

He nodded, gritting his teeth against the gut-wrenching pain in his head and in his chest. “Aye, Hux. I’ve been a sightless fool. I mean to rectify that, starting now. I made a mistake, believed lies of my own invention about that girl, when you have been her champion by telling me the truth. I would stand here and speak more about this matter, but the hour has already grown late, and our lady is in peril. Think you able to put aside your hatred for me so that we may focus on Rey?”

Hux bowed his head. Then he firmed his shoulders and stood tall. He gave Kylo a steady look. “I do not hate you, my lord. But, aye. Lady Rey is our priority.”

Kylo clasped Hux on the back of his neck and gave him an affectionate squeeze.

“Let us bring our lady home.”

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Rey burned like the bed beneath her had been set afire.

But a cool hand pressed her forehead. A cool cloth washed her with relief.

“Will she survive, Maz?” a hushed voice came from somewhere above her.

The cloth moved to her lips and under her chin to her neck. Whoever held the cloth said, “This one has a strong will to live. You shall see.” The voice sounded foreign, but not unpleasant to the ear.

Rey could not speak. Her tongue was like a heavy iron in her head. Her eyelids remained heavy as well. She was so weary from walking. Days, hours, she could not discern how long. But the dreams seeped through the cold that froze her bones. Dreams of a dark fortress with brightly lit windows, red and blinking as if they were eyes. And there was a beautiful devil who tormented her within its walls. She had fallen, fallen, fallen, only to be caught in arms that smelled of herbs and lavender. A bed beneath her, soft, comfortable, but much too hot.

“Shall I make a brew for the fever? I’ve a remedy to aid that scarring as well,” said the same quiet voice of the girl who had spoken before. “How do you suppose she got them?”

“Not by her own doing, Rose. This girl has lived a life that has not been so kind to her. She has known too much suffering at the hands of others.”

Rey cracked her heavy eyelids open and saw the woman who had just spoken. Tiny and aged, with dark, weathered skin. Her brown eyes seemed rather large in her small face. Her head was covered by a white coif cap. Her hands were warm and gnarled as a tree branch.

“She wakes!” the young girl whispered excitedly.

“Calm yourself, Rose. The lady needs rest most of all.” To Rey, the older woman said, “Ah, my child, you have set the province on its head. But that is no matter. Your lord is coming for you, and he will see how strong you are.”

Rey’s eyes fell closed. “He is blind.”

“Have patience with your knight. He is learning to see things as they are, and not as he sees them.”

“Riddles,” Rey muttered sourly. Lord Ren did not want her. There was no use for her patience. She was too worn out to worry about her sad circumstance.

“Who are you, my lady?” Rey murmured, unable to look on the old woman as she spoke.

“I am only Maz. You do not know me, my child, but I have known you your entire life.”

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

“‘Tis no trace of her, my lord.” Ushar, captain of the Knights of Ren, reported with a heavy frown as the torchlight flickered about his face.

Kylo massaged his eyes and his weary, aching head. “North, then. Perhaps the fog has turned her about.”

Vicrul approached on his horse. “The men need a bit of rest, Kylo. We’ve been at this—”

“My wife,” Kylo threw a hand out in Vicrul’s direction, spooking his horse, “is lost out here, in naught but a tunic, and you need a rest?” he spat. “Damn it, Vic. She suffers because of my cruelty.” Kylo hung his head, drained of all fire, nearly drained of all hope. “Go back, if you cannot continue. I’ll keep searching for her myself.”

Kylo urged his mount into a walk and Hux fell in line at his side, a lit torch in his hand. Vicrul shouted a command behind them for the knights to rally to their lord’s aid. Kylo set his face forward, hurting, hurting for his wife, hurting for his men. They’d searched for two days without stopping. Two days without finding Rey, nor a track to indicate which direction she’d gone.

She was lost. She must be terribly afraid. Kylo clamped his trembling jaw tight, unable to thwart the tears that leaked from his eyes. He made himself live out every torment that could have set upon her while she’d been forced away from his protection. Whether by the hands of men or the beasts of the land, he saw her bloodied and broken, harmed in unspeakable ways. Saw her dead, carried off by the scavengers of the wood. And the blame for her murder lay solely at his feet, her blood only upon his hands.

Not one bit of his agony was undeserved. If he could find her alive, he would do anything he needed to do to make atonement.

The rain began to fall, further concealment for the hot tears that continued to burn trails down his face, and another complication to add to their search. Rey was likely exposed to the cold rain. If some other fate hadn’t befallen her, the cold rain would finish her off.

They rode on, calling out to her. Torches sizzled and smoked against the rain that battered, almost as if to thwart their efforts at seeing. God was not cruel, but the Devil showed mercy to no man.

“My lord!” Hux called hoarsely from the fore, holding his smoldering torch high. “‘Tis Chewie! There is a clearing ahead, and he has set his nose to the trail!”

Kylo’s heart found a foothold in his chest. He gave his stallion rein as he spurred him on through the downpour.

“Hux, by my side!” He had no wish to risk his young squire should there be danger ahead. He planned to never let the people under his protection out of his sight ever again.

Hux shot him a wild, bloodshot look, pointing the torch in the direction Chewie had gone. They both followed the hound. Kylo could hear the rest of his men and their snorting horses move swiftly in on them.

A dark outline of a hut came into focus as their feeble torchlight drew nearer. He could only assume Chewie had found his way inside. There was no sign of anyone else about the place. No light within. No stirred ground without. An abandoned shack in the heart of the wood.

Kylo threw his leg over the back of his saddle and hit the ground at a run, sword at the ready. Shouts and orders were given by Vicrul and then by his captain. The knights spread through the wood about them. Kylo could hear Chewie whining inside the hut. Hux beat him to the door, shoving his torch inside as he frantically glanced about.

“There, my lord. She’s there!”

Kylo resheathed his sword and fell beside the old bed Rey was laying upon. Chewie was trying his best to get Rey to pet him. But she was limp where she lay. Kylo had trouble seeing through the blur of tears in his eyes.

“Merciful God. She burns.” He ran his hands all over her, her head was nearly hot enough to light a fire. Her kirtle was torn and damp. Her hands were icy. He tore his cloak from his back and laid it on top of her. He trembled when he reached under the cloak to grasp her hands and warm them between his own.

Kylo murmured her name and cleared his eyes while he looked upon her. Her gentle brow was drawn and her lips seemed to be drained of their rosy color. Her hair lay in a damp mess about her head. To his tired eyes, she was the most beautiful thing he’d seen.

God be praised! She was alive and she didn’t have any broken bones or bloody injuries. Another miracle God had given him in such a short amount of time.

He let out a sob when he scooped her up. She was light in his arms. Too light. He cradled her close and stepped past Hux and Vicrul.

“Help me get her on my horse,” he spoke hoarsely. All their voices were nearly annihilated from shouting the past two days.

Vicrul took Rey while Kylo mounted. When he handed Rey back, Kylo made sure the cloak was wrapped tight about her, covering her from head to foot. He tucked her face into his neck to keep the rain off her.

Kylo looked up to see the line of torches circled about him. His men had remained with him till the end. Another undeserved blessing.

“Let us ride home, lads. Extra portions and a flagon for each of you when we reach the hall.” Kylo reined his horse to the direction of Exegol, only about two miles away. The rest of his company mounted and followed behind.

His bride was unmoving in his arms, though he trembled enough for the both of them. The indicators that she lived still were the tiny puffs of breath that tickled his neck and the heat of her burning face laying against him.

“You’re going to be fine, lass. I promise it,” he whispered next to her ear.

The trip back took too long. Kylo sighed a prayer of relief when they reached the inner bailey. Vicrul and Hux were there when he needed to dismount, making sure Rey wasn’t jostled on the way down.

“See to the men, brother,” he addressed Vicrul. “Hux, I’ll need your aid.”

“Aye, my lord.”

“Get the fire going, Hux. I shall get her into bed.” Kylo carried his wife up the stairs and began removing her boots and hose once he laid her down. Her feet were as cold as a frosty morn. He lamented the blue color of her toes. He worked the rest of her clothes from her body and noticed she was shivering. Once she was tucked under the bedclothes, he called to Hux again.

“Heat up the wine, lad. I want to get something warm into her belly.” He rubbed at her cold limbs over the blanket, aiming to get her blood pumping to them. Rey’s teeth chattered and she made little groaning breaths that tore at Kylo’s heart.

“Where’s that wine, boy?” he snapped to the chamber behind him.

Hux returned quickly with the wine. Kylo took it and propped Rey up with his arm. She shook so badly it was difficult to make sure the wine went down rightly. He cursed.

“The heat from your own body would be the best way to warm her, my lord,” Hux said, staring down at Rey from where he stood by the bed.

“Aye,” Kylo agreed. “That might be best.” He set the wine aside and stripped off all the layered tunics and his hose and boots. “Build that fire a bit more and see about a bowl of broth for my lady, and something substantial for you and me. Though I cannot resolve whether I’d rather eat or sleep at the moment.”

Hux nodded and went about his duties. He could tell the boy was on his last legs. It had been a harrowing two days of no meals and no sleep and constant vigilance in cold, dark conditions.

Kylo slid beneath the blankets and cringed and hissed when his skin touched the ice of hers. God’s bones! But his bollocks just shriveled up and died. He began to shiver as severely as Rey. He made an embarrassing noise when he tucked her frozen hands under his arms at his sides. Then he rubbed his hands all over, trying to chafe some warmth back into her flesh.

He felt her scars under his hands anew. Saints, what had he been thinking sending her away like an unfeeling tyrant when he already knew the suffering she’d faced? She was not like Phasma. She had not lived a life like Phasma, nor was she spoiled by her parents like Phasma had been. No one had ever laid a hand on Phasma. But Rey… she’d been flogged numerous times and she bore the scars of each lash.

Plutt was not long for this world because Kylo would end him.

He snuggled Rey closer, already feeling a marked difference in her body temperature. He kept his hands moving over her skin, determined to warm every inch of it.

Hux returned with a trencher and he curled Rey into his lap while he sat up and ate for the first time since that afternoon Rey went missing. Nay, amend that: Since the afternoon Kylo sent her running from his keep. He held Rey a little tighter, remembering what he’d done and how she’d fled his presence.

Bloody hell. She would hate him when she finally awoke.

They finished eating and he sent Hux off for the night with a word of thanks. He put his arms around his wife again and felt her continue to grow warm next to him. It was easy to close his eyes and drift off with Rey nestled against him.

He awoke sometime during the night, his cock ready to burst through the threads of the bedclothes, and Rey’s hot body now clung to him. Hell fire! He could foresee the trouble ahead if he didn’t get up and away from her. The fire needed stoking. He decided to leave her in the bed and he’d take up a place on a fur by the hearth.

“Nay.” He heard the murmured grunt next to his face. He stopped moving, thinking Rey would scream at him once she found out he’d stripped her and bedded down with her. But the girl only held on tighter and sighed into his skin.

Kylo closed his eyes and cursed silently. He tucked the blankets around them once more and held on to Rey’s little body. He tried to think of other things, like Vicrul’s sweat-stained tunic after a battle. Anything to distract him from the fact that he was pressed tight against his wife’s perfect tits.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to have a T-shirt that said BOSS WENCH. Now I want one that says NOT TODAY, WENCH.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Lady Rey was an interesting bedfellow.

Saints, but could she talk. The fever played with her head as she recovered. She jabbered like Hux when much too deep in his cups. Kylo awoke in the dead of night and heard Rey calling out for someone named Maz.

“Maz? Who is this?” he grunted through a raw throat. He was slow to come awake, yet tired, aching with muscles stiff and sore from days spent on a horse out in the cold.

“You know me, Maz,” Rey wailed pitifully. “You helped me.” More moaning. “The bed, it burns.”

Kylo glanced down, there was no light to see by. He could feel Rey was laying across his chest, so the only thing burning was either his lady or himself. He found her forehead and smoothed the wisps of hair away from her damp brow. He pulled the blankets back onto her shoulders and tucked her closer.

She breathed easy for a moment, relaxing into him.

“Feels good. Safe,” she murmured. “The Devil will break down the door,” she whined, growing tense again. “Nay! Not the lash!” She jerked out of his arms and away. “Maz!”

Kylo frowned and reached for her to drag her back to him. “Rey, girl, all is well. ‘Tis me, Kylo.” She struggled weakly within his grasp.

“I don’t know Kylo,” she sobbed on his chest. “I want Maz!”

“Kylo is Lord Ren,” he tried to reason with her. “I am Kylo.”

“Lord Ren is the Devil,” she moaned, thrashing her legs. She settled once more. “He did not beat me.”

“Nay,” Kylo choked, knowing he’d raised his hand all the same and had frightened her with the threat of violence.

“Plutt breaks down the door and beats me every time.”

He squeezed Rey tight, sorry for what he’d put her through. She elbowed him in the gut trying to push away. He grunted in pain.

“I do not… Please,” she whined softly. “Don’t want to leave Exegol,” she whispered. “Friends there. Hux. Vicrul. Chewie.”

Kylo snorted.

“Vicrul is scared of heights.” She tittered and moaned again. “If he shouts at me I can go up, up, up! Can’t get me.” Her arm flopped to the other side of the bed.

He brought her hand back and placed it in the middle of his chest. “Your lord will thrash him for you if he shouts.”

Her damp brow smacked his arm. “He cares not. Doesn’t want me.” Another whimper and a sigh. “I’m ugly and afraid. Doesn’t want me.” She turned her face into the space between his side and the bed. “He sent me away.” A muffled lament, but he heard it all the same.

Kylo rolled toward her and pulled her close. “You are staying right here, Rey.”

“I wanted to please him.” A wet sob. “Bazine would tell me how, but I was too scared to go talk to her. I don’t know how to give him a babe so he’ll keep me.” She rubbed her hot face and her hot tears on his chest. “Why won’t he keep me?”

Now Kylo felt twice the villain. 

“He’ll keep you, lass. He’s a sorry excuse for a shite-spattered garderobe, but you will never be turned away again.”

“He’s bloody stubborn.”

He chuckled at her venom. “Aye.”

“Harsh.”

“Sometimes, aye.”

“Not gentle.”

“Well…”

“Shouts too much.”

“That he does.”

“Bloody, feckin’ whoreson!”

“You’ve got a mouth on you, lass,” he muttered, surprised she had all this fire buried deep within her. Not such a timid mouse, after all.

The tension left her again. “He smiles. Smiles like… like wonderful… but not for me.” A puff of air left her mouth. “Never for me.”

“Lord Ren?”

“Aye,” she breathed.

“Huh,” Kylo mused. He’d never heard the like before.

She quieted for a little while, but continued to flop around. She startled him when she shouted, “He’s a bloody arse!”

He patted her on the back, not disagreeing.

“Maz,” she wailed. “I’ll shame him. Shame… Shame…” Her forehead swept back and forth along his ribs. 

“Why should you shame him, lass?”

“My face. ‘Tis good he cannot see. But his people see.” She let out a long, soft sigh. “I miss Finn.”

Kylo’s heart took a tumble. Rey wasn’t ugly. Scars did not make a person ugly. In the hands of Lord Plutt, Rey had been stripped of all confidence and any sense of self had been beaten out of her. Hadn’t Hux said all the girl needed was looking after? To be well fed? And that she just needed a little love? He sighed. He could not let her go on with such delusions of herself. Once she was well again, he would have to tell her. He would just bloody well have to have a care for her.

She would most likely be sore disappointed when she found out she’d helped knock his eyes back into place. Disappointed or resentful, at present, he could not say.

He rubbed his hand along her scarred back. “You’re not alone, Rey. Lord Ren will care for you.”

“Nay. He will send me back to Plutt. Will kill me. I travel to Coruscant. To the king. How far have I left to go? I’ve walked days and days and days…”

Kylo swallowed hard. “‘Tis too far, little lass.”

“I must go. I’ve lingered too long.” She began pushing away from his chest.

He held tight. “Hush, now. You’ll stay. Lord Ren will have a talk with you. He will be kind and he will be gentle. And you will have no reason to fear him.”

“But Finn said my knight would come for me!”

“Lord Ren is your knight.”

“He doesn’t love me,” she said pitifully.

“Well, give the bloody whoreson time to grow accustomed to the idea,” he growled.

“I’m a coward. He won’t love a coward.”

“You are no more a coward than Lord Ren is a honey cake.”

“He smiles like honey cake.” She fluttered her lips and dissolved into laughter. “What’s honey cake?” 

Kylo snorted at her nonsense, but was still delighted by her delirious laughter. He bent down to her hot forehead and gave it a gentle brush with his lips. “‘Tis sweet on the tongue.”

“Sweet on the tongue…” she sighed. “Will he be sweet on my tongue?” Her voice lost all its volume as she whispered the last words. She fell silent and began to sleep again.

Bloody hell, if that didn’t put visions in his head.

He prayed that God would have mercy on them all when Rey finally found out she had no reason to fear; that she could speak her mind and say what she pleased when she pleased. He had a feeling Rey would be most forthright with her opining. If she could give herself to be entrusted. That was the crux, wasn’t it?

He continued to rub her back until the dawn slipped through the cracks of the wooden shutters in his chamber. He prayed her fever would break soon. Much as her lively feverish conversation had been enlightening, he wanted Rey to be well. He wanted to make amends, but he didn’t know how to go about it yet.

Kylo had to admit he was afraid. He’d faced terrifying calamity, unplanned adventure, and untold agony and pain in his life. He’d been tested on and off the battlefield. Sullied honor and abused loyalty could mean life or death when a trust was broken. He judged these qualities in his men and upheld them for himself. The one person who had torn all that asunder had been a woman. He was frightened by the notion that he must allow Rey close enough to jeopardize all that he held sacred and sure. It had nearly destroyed him the last time he’d been betrayed by his wife.

There was a war within him. On one side of the battlefield stood the banner of self-preservation behind the fortifications of a well-armed fortress. On the opposite side of that battlefield was the army flying the bright colored banners of compromise. The side of self-preservation would keep things as they are, locked tight, holding everything the woman represented at bay. Warding off her attacks and her wiles and her soft, feminine body. The side of compromise urged him to make peace with his past and finally lay his treacherous first wife to rest; to give Rey a chance to prove herself and to give himself the freedom to trust and care again.

He knew he needed to let go of the fear and resentment and anger. Rey deserved none of that.

But it was difficult to release all at once. For the past year he’d gathered all that darkness around him like a shield. Darkness had been his daily companion and his hourly guide. He’d grown comfortable there in the dark with his pain, both in the body and in the mind.

He disengaged from her clinging hold and rolled out of the bed. She grunted in discontent and he heard her wrestling with the blankets. He had duties to see to and he wished to check on his knights. His feet hit the cold floor and he hissed, remembering how cold Rey had been; how cold and alone and afraid she must have been outside the fortress, lost in the wood.

Who in seven hells was Maz? Had it been someone who’d helped Rey? Or was it merely a feverish imagining Rey had fashioned in her mind? Kylo wondered about that mystery as he dressed.

Out in the hallway a single torch was lit. On the floor by the wall, opposite Kylo’s bedchamber door, Vicrul had bedded down for the night. Hux had thrown down a pallet a little farther away.

“No wench was willing to warm your beds lasteve, I see,” he said, loud enough to wake them both.

“I vow your voice is not the first thing my ears enjoy of a morning,” Vicrul hoarsely bellowed from his place on the floor. He rose up with a grunt and cracked his bones with a twist of his waist.

“How fares our lady, this morn, my lord?” Hux asked, still a bit bleary in the eyes.

“The fever lingers still. She babbled out of her head for a good portion of the night. Mentioned a name I do not know. Were there signs others had been in that hut?”

“Naught but fresh ash in the hearth,” Vicrul shrugged.

Kylo nodded, unsure what to make of it. Chewie unfurled himself out of Hux’s pallet and trotted over. Kylo squatted down and ruffled his fur, giving him some appreciative pats. “Well done, old hound. You shall have your own place at table this eve, eh?”

“What are your orders for the day, my lord?” Hux asked.

Kylo was about to open his mouth when a scream rent the air. All three men jumped into action. Kylo was first into his dim bedchamber.

Rey was on her knees on the bed, hair hanging down around her, and not a stitch on, screaming, “Do not touch me. I’ve a sword. I’ve a bloody sword!”

Kylo reached her and tried to pull a blanket around her shoulders to cover her nakedness. Rey screeched again and fought him.

“You shall feel the sting of my blade!” she yelled over his shoulder, wild eyes fixed on nothing in particular.

“Hush, now, Rey.” He smoothed her hair back.

“What can we do, my lord?” Hux asked from the doorway.

Rey melted into his arms with a moan. He looked back at Hux and Vicrul and asked them to take care of the men for the day. “I must see to Rey for now.”

“Have you decided to keep her?” Hux squawked.

“Aye, lad. She needs me.” It was a striking realization that he’d not accounted for. He’d planned to have very little interaction with his wife after he married her. For over a year, Kylo had relied solely on Vicrul and Hux to get him through the business of the days, to be his eyes and ears and strong arms. They had helped him find his way in the darkness. They had kept his secret and were his truest friends. But now Rey needed him. She needed his strength and protection. She needed his care. As her husband, he was the only soul fit for the challenge.

“Shall I stay close to help?” Hux asked.

“I’ve no need of you, lad.”

“Come, Arkanis. Our lord is occupied this day with his lady wife,” Vicrul said and steered the boy away from his chamber.

“But… I shall return later?” The boy asked as the chamber door closed. There was a plaintive note in Hux’s voice.

Kylo’s attention was on Rey who was rubbing her face along his chest.

“Where have you been,” she muttered. “‘Tis bloody cold.”

He snorted softly. “Such a feisty little wench,” he murmured into her hair. “Get into bed and I shall start a fire for my lady.” He was going to miss this fiery part of her when she came out of the fever.

She fussed about before settling down again. Kylo sparked the fire to roaring in the hearth and returned to the bed. He removed his clothes and curled up around his wife to keep her warm. ‘Twas a sweet kind of torment, her restless body rubbing up against his.

He knew things would change very quickly when she came to her senses.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Rey cracked her eyelids open and found herself in a familiar room. In a familiar bed. Surrounded by a familiar masculine scent. She expected to find Maz hovering about, smelling of lavender. But Maz was not in that familiar chamber.

Of course, Maz would not be in Lord Ren’s chamber.

Rey sucked in a panicked breath and pushed herself up in the bed. Aye, she was in Lord Ren’s bed in his private chamber. She yelped when she glanced down to find all her clothing missing. She groped for the blankets to cover herself.

She yelped again when a deep voice called her name. Lord Ren stood up from near the hearth. His dark eyes seemed to find hers. There was light aplenty to see him, hair swept back from his forehead, red scar slashed across his face, bruises fading where he’d hit his head, black whiskers over his top lip and about his chin. He wore no tunic. Had she awoken to find herself in some dream?

She looked about her once more. “How am I here?” Her voice sounded rough. She sat back on her heels and pulled the edge of the blanket up to her chin.

“You are home,” Lord Ren said as he stepped closer.

“You sent me away. I… I took my leave of this place.”

He was standing over her now. He shook his head. “That was a mistake. I made a rash judgement of you. I said much that should not have been said. I should never have…”

Rey frowned, listening, waiting for him to continue. He raised his hand, and she tensed, sucked in a quick breath, and turned her head away, waiting for him to strike her.

But he did not.

His large fingers smoothed over her brow. She jolted at the contact. She released a trembling breath.

“Your fever has broken at last,” he said. “I was worried over you.” His hand shifted to push the hair out of her face. He did it with a gentleness that confounded her.

“Your belly must be aching for some food by now. Come. Sit ye by the fire. I shall fetch us a meal.”

She stared at Lord Ren’s chest. Stared at his hand as he moved it away and held it out for her to take with her own. She glanced at that chest again, wondering why she already knew what it would feel like if she were to touch it or lay her head against it.

“Are you strong enough to rise?” he asked, hand yet outstretched.

“Am I?” she mused.

“You’ve fought the fever for days, Rey. You may not feel as strong as you would like. I’ll see to it that you are restored.”

She frowned again and looked down at the bed. “Maz?” she asked softly, confused about a lot of things.

“You will have to tell me about this Maz person.”

Her eyes finally returned to his. “I know not.”

He blinked and frowned. “No matter. Come, my lady,” he urged again. “You may have my dressing gown.”

Her hand found its way into his and he helped her to stand with all the blankets heaped around her. He led her to a new chair that had been placed before his hearth and sat her in it. She watched him go, his chest was still bare. She frowned at herself for admiring it without a hint of remorse.

Rey folded herself into His Lordship’s dressing gown and took a deep breath of the scent that lingered on it as she knotted the belt. She quite liked that he’d given it for her to wear.

Though, surely, there was nothing special about his offering it to her.

She sat in his chair and refused to move, afraid she’d shift the furniture and she knew the calamity that would come if any of Lord Ren’s things should be found out of place.

When Lord Ren returned, she rose to get the door behind him. Her feet shuffled one half step, poised to run over the threshold. She could make an escape. But… Did she really want to escape? Nay, she did not wish to go through that experience again. It was too cold and she was too tired.

Rey shoved the door closed with all her resolve that this was her choice alone, and that she could have left the place again if it suited her. But it did not suit her. Lord Ren reached over her shoulder and slid the bolt to lock it. She trembled when his hand brushed her shoulder and it trailed down to her fingers. He squeezed her hand and led her back to his chair. He set the meal out before her and set himself close by.

His expression turned ominous as she nibbled on the things he’d brought her. The bread merely expanded in her mouth and it was difficult to swallow. It all settled like a stone in her belly.

“I should not have said such hateful things to you that day I sent you running. I should not have...” he trailed off.

“My lord?” she said, quite stunned.

“I’ve regret for my actions and my inaction. As you’ll come to learn, I’m impatient. I’m bloody stubborn. I shout too much. I’m contrary at the best of times and bullheaded at the worst.” He finished with a short nod.

Aye, Lord Ren was all those things. She knew it. But he regretted his actions and inaction? “You mean to send me back to my stepfather.”

“Nay, my lady,” he grumped. “I’m trying my bloody best to apologize to you.”

“Oh.” What was she to do with an apology? “But… I am to stay?” she asked. “With you?”

Lord Ren reared back and frowned deeply. “Aye, lass. Where else would you… Do  _ you _ not wish to stay with  _ me, _ here in Exegol?” He seemed to study her closely.

“You  _ want _ me to stay, my lord?” she asked again, trying to understand him.

“Aye, I wish for you to stay. It took me a bloody while to come to the conclusion. As you know, I’m a stubborn arse and I loathe change.”

“Change can be painful for you,” she said with a glance at the dent she had made in his forehead.

“Aye. Damnably so.” He nodded sharply.

“Change can be good, too.” Exegol was a drastic change from Niima. A good change, if she were allowed to stay here without threat of violence.

He sniffed and continued to frown. “Aye. Change can be… good,” he grunted.

Rey brought her hand up to her face and tried to hide her smile, she wasn’t sure why, as he wouldn’t see it. Lord Ren sounded like he’d rather be speaking about anything else with anyone else. Yet, here he was being gruffly gentle with her.

“I see,” she said, stifling a laugh.

His eyes narrowed on her. “And why is it you sound so amused?”

“I do not believe you are convinced that change can be good.” She smiled, and tacked on, “My lord.”

He sighed and leaned back, both his hands were braced on his knees. His wide chest muscles clenched and moved. Why must the man be put on display thusly? Now that she was less afraid, she was becoming greatly distracted.

“I’m open to compromise. I learn from my mistakes. Doesn’t mean I’ll never make mistakes. I’m not a perfect being.” He reached out and grasped for her hand. He stroked her fingers softly. “I wish to make amends.”

Rey stared up at him, wide-eyed and very much in awe of what was happening.

“Well?” he demanded. “Is that sufficient as an apology? Or need I get on my knees and beg your forgiveness? Damn me, you’re going to make me work for this.”

Her breath caught. Never had someone begged forgiveness for the wrongs done her. A warm sensation curled round in her chest. “I… I could forgive you,” she breathed.

“My wife is a strategist, I see. What will it be then? You wish to take your due from my hide? Ten lashes? Twenty? Thirty?”

“Nay,” she whispered and grabbed his wrist. “Never.”

Lord Ren closed his mouth and dropped his face, looking contrite. “There I go, saying rash things once more. Forgive me, my lady,” he said with uncharacteristic softness.

And Rey’s heart softened toward her husband with those few words. “Aye, I forgive you,” she returned just as softly.

He took her hand once more and laid a kiss upon the back of it. “I shall call for a bath and for the bed to be refreshed. You have been through an ordeal. I wish for you to rest.”

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Kylo did not start bleeding from his eyes, nose, mouth or ears. His gut was intact. His heart, still beating. Aye, he’d thought that apologizing or begging forgiveness from his woman would have killed him in some fitting way. But he lived still. And it had not taken as much out of his pride as he’d assumed it would. In fact, his spirits seemed the better for it. Perhaps repentance was good for the soul after all.

But Kylo fell far short of saintly status, especially when he watched his wife step into a bath, yet again. It had been about two years since he’d last wet his wick. And the looking at her was such sweet torment. He knew he should be telling her about his eyesight’s miraculous return, but this night, he wanted to keep it secret.

Kylo helped her bathe and washed her hair. He vowed to himself he’d buy her a trunk full of sweet-smelling soaps and enjoy this pleasure of bathing her often. Rey’s eyes fell closed as he worked the suds through her long hair and scalp. He dipped a cup into the water and poured it over her head to rinse it clean. He laid her hair over the tub, on the sheet lining and began to comb it out as the warmth from the fire helped to dry it.

Rey was asleep when he finished. He picked her up from the bath and wrapped her in a drying linen. She was still asleep when he laid her on their bed. He tucked her in before he did something foolish, like take one of her tits into his mouth. No, when he decided to bed her, she would be a willing participant, awake and eager. When that day would come, he had no answer.

Kylo shucked his clothes and sat in the cooling tub. The growing chill of the water did nothing to sooth the persistent arousal he’d been plagued with for the last hour. But the visual of Rey’s body drove his hand to take hold of his hard cock and stroke upward with a dragging tug. He couldn’t even remember when he’d enjoyed such a fleeting pleasure. His hand knew the pressure and the places to touch, and within a few strokes he bit back a moan as his spend splashed down on his chest while waves of ecstasy rolled over him. He leaned against the edge of the tub and breathed for a while.

Rey was still sleeping peacefully when he came back to the bed. She stirred when he slid under the clean blankets and fused his skin with her skin. Another indulgence. But in her slumber, his wife turned into his chest and nestled her head there, like she’d become accustomed to laying her head upon his heart.

He brought her cold feet to rest against his legs and cradled her chilled hands against his chest.

“You need me to keep you warm, lass,” he rumbled quietly near her ear.

A tiny moaning sigh was her response.

He smiled and said, “Sleep well, sweet Rey.”

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Rey escaped into the chapel to think the next day. Lord Ren had been most attentive, only leaving the chamber after fussing about and feeling her head for fever. He’d commanded her to stay abed.

Lord Ren wanted her to remain in Exegol. She was still frightened by the thought of his fists. They were large and heavy and she was sure they would bring untold damage. Or was that something he was trying to repent of in his apology the night before? Rey found it all very bewildering. Her husband, the Devil of Exegol, willing to compromise for a wife that would surely only bring him shame. She knew herself unworthy to stand beside such a man.

While on her knees at the chapel’s altar, she prayed. Prayed that she would dwell in safety within these black walls. Prayed that Lord Ren would not use his fists on her, that he would not beat her at all. Gave thanks that he would not send her back to her stepfather.

Her shouted name interrupted her prayers. She trembled there upon her knees, thinking he might leave her in peace if she were to keep perfectly silent. But it wasn’t to be. Lord Ren was clomping down the aisle of the church toward her.

“Aye, my lord?” she said, rising on shaky legs.

“Did I not leave you with strict instruction that you were to stay in bed?” he asked, voice still strangely rough and hoarse.

She bowed her head and said him “Aye.”

“Come to me.” He shoved his hand out, waiting for her to obey.

That formidable frown arranged on his soft lips made her hesitate. He would surely beat her for her disobedience. Her feet hesitated, but she did not wish to compound her sins.

“Please, my lord,” she cried out through trembling lips, “I beg your forgiveness.”

“Aye, you should be begging mercy,” he growled. His hand grabbed hers and he jerked her to his chest.

Rey yelped but her voice was stifled when his arms came around her. Gentle, strong, warm, and all encompassing.

“What am I to think when I returned to my chamber, expecting my obedient wife to be as I left her, but found that she’d vanished altogether? Bloody hell, woman. I thought you’d left me again.”

Rey could only breathe through her surprise.

“Did we not speak of these things lasteve?” He set her away from him, drew off his own cloak and whipped it around her shoulders. “I vow that tending you in your affliction has made me irritable. I expect you to make amends for the trouble.” So gruff. But his hands shook subtly as he clasped the cloak at the base of her neck. Did his anger affect him so?

She stared up at her imposing husband. His brown eyes truly were a wonder. ‘Twas a pity they were useless to him. Her eyes fell to his hand as he lifted it slightly and caressed her jaw with a rough knuckle.

“Well, Rey? Don’t you think you should apologize to me for all the trouble I’ve gone to on your behalf?”

She stuttered out a clunky apology. “Aye. I’m… very sorry, my lord.”

“Hm,” he rumbled, seeming to be deep in thought. “I am not appeased. Know you not my name? All this time together, and you’ve not once used it. A fact I am quite sore over. You are well acquainted, I’ve no doubt, of what happens when I am greatly angered? Horns are known to grow out from my head.”

Rey’s shoulders shifted backward in shock. This lord of the realm who upheld reputation for being one of its fiercest warriors was teasing her. Only Finn had ever teased her thusly with a stern severity that was softened by his love. But, for Lord Ren to attempt the same?

He drew a fingertip along her opened lips, further confounding her muddled thoughts.

“The cold has frozen your tongue, I see.” The arm about her turned her toward the door. He kept that arm around her as he guided her out into the bailey. “I shall escort you back to our bedchamber and get a fire going. And you need to eat, Rey. Your strength will return all the quicker with the right care.”

Rey stared up at Lord Ren a good portion of the walk up to his chamber. She watched his face and felt the warmth of his arms. Hadn’t she been desirous of such things only a few days ago? Had God finally granted her the heart’s desire?

He sat her down in his chair and built up a roaring fire. Once that was done, he turned to her and reached for her hands, swallowing them with his own. He brought her hands to his mouth and blew on them to warm them.

Her heart did not know how to deal with such tenderness. Something she so desperately wanted, needed. It was almost too much. The feelings so overwhelmed her she knew she had to get away and work through them before she began to sob.

Rey removed her hands from Lord Ren’s and stood. She had to get out of this room!

She heard Lord Ren shouting behind her, but her only thought was to flee. She ran for the steps to the battlements that Hux had shown her the first day in Exegol. Her legs weren’t steady nor as strong as they should be, but she willed them to keep going. She could only hope the cold outside would render her heart and her mind senseless.

She ran to the wall that faced the sea. As much as she fought against the tears, they came anyhow. The view blurred before her. She knew not what to do with such gentleness. With her stepbrother, it had been different, natural. He had real affection for her and she for him. She had not come to the den of the Devil expecting softness, tenderness, nor affection. Was it some sort of game she had not figured out how to play? She loathed riddles and tricks.

A hard body pressed into her from behind. Arms came around her. Lord Ren’s hands landed on top of her own. How was it he could find her so easily?

“Why do you run from me?” he grumbled at her ear.

Rey sucked in a wet breath through her nose. “I do not understand the game you play.”

Lord Ren turned her to face him. Rey dashed away her tears with the sleeves of her kirtle.

“What is this talk of games?”

“You do not want me. You tried to send me away. You do not want this marriage. I know not why you offered for me in the first place. I do not understand you!”

“Did Finn ever tell you that you think too much?” he asked.

Rey’s spine shot straight as a pole. In the blink of an eye, her ire was ignited, hotter than any fire she had ever felt before. “And now you find fault with my intelligence? I  _ think _ too much? How  _ dare _ you mock my pain,” she punctuated her words by jabbing her finger into Lord Ren’s belly, “by bringing my  _ brother _ into this. He was the only soul who  _ ever _ loved me!” she finished with a shout.

Lord Ren’s fist clapped over her pointing finger with acute accuracy. His eyes burned with banked fires that gave Rey a deep sense of unease.

“Magnificent…” he seemed to breathe into the air without sound.

Rey’s fire burned out, melting her like a tallow candle, and she realized what she had done. She remembered she was a coward. She trembled. She waited for the strike of his hand.

Arms circled her. Pressed her to his warm body. She shuddered, the breath leaving her in surprised huffs.

“I know I have given you cause to fear me,” he spoke low, pained. “Perhaps one day soon you will see you have no use for that fear.” He gave her body a gentle squeeze and took her hand. “Come, now. ‘Tis damned cold out here. I’ll not have you catch another chill.”

Lord Ren led her back across the battlements with his left hand on hers, his right hand skimmed along the wall. Down the narrow, curved steps he had to let her go, but as soon as the stairwell let them out into the passageway, he took her hand again.

“Count the doorways for me, Rey,” he requested quietly.

She did so numbly until they reached his door. “Your chamber, my lord.”

“I have a name,” he murmured. “Won’t you say it?”

She frowned. It was a name she’d only heard whispered in dreams.

He sighed heavily when she gave him nothing but silence.

“I can only assume you are still weakened from so long with a fever. I shouldn’t have let you go up to the battlements. ‘Tis my fault I was not more diligent.” He pushed open the door and lifted her into his arms without warning. He carried her to the bed.

“Rest, now. You need sleep. When I return in a few hours’ time, I expect I will find you where I left you, obeying me as an excellent wife should.” He removed her slippers and tucked the covers tight around her.

Rey thought that she must, indeed, be overwrought from her ordeal, for as soon as Lord Ren left the chamber, she buried her face in his pillow and wept. Silly tears. Perplexing tears. She wept for Finn. She wept for herself. She wept because her courage always seemed to evade her when she needed it most.

She wept because she didn’t know what to do with such a gentle Devil.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things.
> 
> ⁜ ⸎ ⁜
> 
> Behold! I bring you the fluffiest of fluff. Behold it!
> 
> ⁜ ⸎ ⁜

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Vicrul stormed up to Kylo in the great hall and fisted his tunic. Kylo cut him with a killing look.

“Do you want to lose that hand?” he asked his brother-in-law.

“A word with you is what I want. In private,” Vicrul growled. He jerked his close-shorn head toward the stairs and released Kylo.

Kylo’s sigh sounded more like a rumbling storm. But he followed his friend. Vicrul did not stop until they were both behind closed doors in Kylo’s solar. He narrowed his eyes and pondered what Vicrul was about.

Silence. He raised his hands, gesturing to the privacy of the room. “Aye? What is it you want?”

Vicrul shuffled his boots and tugged on his short, dark blond beard. He cleared his throat before he grumbled, “I want to know what it is you are doing.”

“At the moment, my time is being wasted by an imbecile. Have you something more to say? I’m living, Vic. Finally getting on with living.”

Vicrul waved a massive hand in a dismissive gesture. “Nay. Not that. I want to know what you mean to do with Lady Rey. Not an hour ago, I heard her crying inside your chamber. What have ye done to her now?”

“I’ve done naught but take care of her! She is yet tired. That fever was hard on her and she’s been out of bed overmuch. Bloody hell, Vic. What are you trying to accuse me of doing to her?”

Vicrul rubbed at a spot under his hairy jaw and paced around the room. He sighed and huffed and Kylo was afraid the man’s head was nigh to catching fire from all the infernal thinking. Finally, Vicrul stopped and turned to look at Kylo.

“You could have the marriage annulled. You said you haven’t bedded her.”

Kylo’s head reared back. “Hell fire, Vic! What are you on about? I don’t want an annulment. Rey has a remarkably wicked tongue when she lets her guard down. She had plenty to say when she was out of her head with the fever and I eagerly await the day she will use that saucy tongue on me while she has her wits about her.”

Vicrul frowned and looked up with an odd expression on his face. “Encouraging rebellion, are we? Afore too long and you’ll be needing to teach her obedience. I suppose ‘tis easily done with the threat of a beating.”

Kylo’s teeth cracked together and he came at his brother with a filthy curse. He knocked Vicrul down, hands at his throat, and when he could manage it, he slammed his fist into Vic’s face. Vic scrambled to reciprocate and delivered a blow that landed like a hammer beneath Kylo’s chin that sent him backward. But Kylo didn’t stay down, he grabbed Vicrul by the neck and shook him.

“You bloody whoreson! Never say such again, or I vow I’ll flog you myself and leave your bleeding arse tied to a rail in the bailey,” he growled. “Rey will never be threatened with the like, not as a jest, and not in truth.”

Vicrul clamped his fists on Kylo’s forearms and applied pressure, and was able to throw him aside. “Mercy!” he spat. “I wasn’t in earnest, brother. I’m powerful fond of her,” he said while rubbing at the cut Kylo had made on his cheek.

Kylo sat up and bent his knee, glaring at Vic. He worked his jaw, feeling an odd crack. The pain would set in soon. “Then why would you even intimate such a deed? I’ve spent the last few nights in the same bed with her, listening to her cry out in fear of what her stepfather has done to her. You know Plutt and his thirst for control and tyranny. I don’t want her terrified like that ever again.”

“Aye,” Vicrul piped. “She’ll get no such threat from me.”

Kylo nodded, still upset Vic had brought up such a thing. He leapt to his feet, rolling his shoulders as the last of the rage receded. He flexed his fist and strode to the alcove. The curtains were drawn, not as they should be. Then he noticed something else. The scent of the soap he’d used on Rey the night before.

Rey was hiding behind the curtain.

He sighed and shook his head. Such a disobedient little wench. He smirked, not upset with her in the least. He only wished she would take her rest to heart.

“I’m of a mind to think you’re in love with the girl, the way you behave.”

It took Kylo a moment to realize what Vic had said. Rey had been privy to their conversation since they’d entered the room. He tried to remember what Vicrul had been yammering about. Turning, he made a slashing movement with his hand.

“What?” Vicrul cracked. “Has she threatened to run you through with that little sword of hers?”

Kylo waved his hand again and put his finger to his lips. Vic was a master on the battlefield, but could be a dolt concerning the finer, subtler arts of discretion.

Kylo’s glare did not put a stop to his mouth. “Lady Rey is not as ugly as we thought, aye? Her description was, no doubt, sullied by Plutt’s hatred for her, that putrid fecker. She’s not a beauty like Phasma had been, but our lady has a gentleness about her that Phasma never possessed.”

 _Shite._ “There will be no talk of Phasma.” Kylo knew Rey was insecure about her appearance and he did not want her to be subjected to any comparison with his first wife. Her insecurities were the reason he’d been hesitant to reveal that he’d regained his sight. He wished to draw her from that vulnerable place within with his own vulnerability. He knew he was playing with fire, but the Devil of Exegol did not fear the flame.

Vicrul’s tongue, however, was getting the best of him.

“I wonder if Lady Rey thinks you as pretty as she is. Her eyes seem to be ever drawn to ye.”

He was ready to strangle Vic again. “Would you cease, man?”

“Look at ye blush like a lad. Aye, that girl is good for you. You aim to keep her, then?”

“Haven’t you ears?” Kylo bellowed. “Of course, I’m keeping her!”

“‘Bout time you start thinking about putting a wee babby in her, aye? You need a few tiny devils running around to keep you young.”

“Enough! Get out!” Kylo shoved Vic back through the solar door. “You’ve a mouth on you that won’t quit, God’s honest truth!”

“There’s more I wish to say!” Vic drug Kylo along with him outside the chamber. He stopped and leaned in close. “I knew she was in there the whole time,” he wheezed, smiling wide.

Kylo looked away in disgust. “Pox rot you, Vic.”

Vicrul cackled all the way back to the great hall.

He sighed and returned to the solar, thinking on what his next move would be. Should he let well enough alone? Or should he use this as an opportunity to scale those ramparts that protected the heart of his wife?

Oh, aye. He wanted more of that fire he’d seen on the battlements.

He straightened the belt of his tunic and cracked his jaw while he stalked over to the alcove. He came to a stand by the curtain and sighed deeply.

“I am a fortunate man, indeed, to have such a sweet wife who will listen and do all that I command her. Who doesn’t hide about, listening to things she ought not hear.” He whipped the curtain aside and found her plastered against the stone wall. She moved as if to run past him, but he stopped her with his arm around her waist and brought her into the cradle of his chest.

“Ah, ah, ah, what have we here? What have you to say for yourself, my lady?”

She let out a pitiful squeak from between her rosy lips. Her wide, worried eyes blinked up at him, dark green and brown, deep and fine. Her hair fell in deliciously soft waves over the backs of his hands. He wanted to wind his fingers through it.

“I vow I was not spying, my lord.”

He hummed a low response and brought his hand to her jaw, cupping it gently. He skimmed her cheek with this thumb, feeling the striations marring her skin. “Who is it you speak with?” he asked her quietly, pressing her closer to his body.

“M-my Lord Ren.”

He released a soft, soundless huff. Leaning down he touched his cheek to hers, letting his lips settle at her ear. He nuzzled her slightly, taking in a slow breath of her sweet scent. It was a scent he had come to adore in a very short amount of time.

“Rey,” he rumbled deeply in her ear. Felt her shiver. “Say my name.”

Her fingers clenched tight in his tunic above his belt. She must have been holding her breath, for it all came back to her with a gasp. Her little chest heaved below his. He smiled. Turned his head slightly, took her earlobe between his lips. Caressed her. Barely a touch. Then, “Say it,” he whispered.

Rey shuddered and sagged against him. Clung tighter as she began to chant, “Kylo. _Kylo.”_ A shaky breath, and even softer, “Kylo.”

Feeling a surging wave of triumph and a heavy undertow of desire, he nearly carried her back to their bedchamber, ready to break through all her defenses with a barrage of the sweetest pleasures he could design. Hell fire! He needed to get hold of himself.

He dragged his nose to the top of her head and breathed deeply, keeping a tight hold on her. He moved them farther into the alcove, to the built-in bench. It was cold against his backside, but he needed that. He needed cooling. He pulled Rey onto his lap. She kept her forehead shoved into his neck. Her breaths remained unsteady.

Then she sat up with a jerk, bracing her arm on his chest, making space between them. Her eyes had changed in a remarkable way. The black centers had grown wide. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips parted with each of her pants. She blinked several times. Swallowed hard. Her eyes moved restlessly over his face.

“You… You made a vow to my brother. You truly did not want this marriage, you did not want me,” she whispered tragically, as if confirming some dreadful secret.

Kylo smirked and slid his hand up the side of her neck, testing the softness of her skin against the rough texture of his.

“And I suppose you rejoiced at the news that you were to be wed to the Devil himself? What was it that Vicrul said? Hm… Oh, aye, that you threw yourself at Plutt’s feet and begged. I daresay you weren’t begging to be my wife.”

Rey blinked several times and closed her mouth. She relaxed her arm and laid against him once more. Pleased that she’d chosen to stay there, he cuddled her in his arms.

“Who is Phasma?” she asked in the quiet of the alcove.

Kylo tensed all over, any thought of arousal shriveling up at the mention of his dead wife’s name on Rey’s lips.

_Damn you, Vic._

“That name is anathema. I beg you not to speak it again.”

The cold grew between them. Kylo ground his teeth together, mood dark. Thinking of Phasma’s parting words only served to rip a fresh tear in a poorly healed wound. He had no desire for Rey to know just how low he’d been brought by his dead wife.

“My lord?” Rey whispered, having raised herself to look him in the face. He sighed, relaxing slightly. “Shall I leave you?”

He shook his head, chafing his hands along her arms and the side of her leg. “Nay, lass. Stay here with me a few moments more. I desire that you put your arms round me and whisper my name to me again. I have a deuced time remembering what it is.”

He smiled against her hair when she slowly, timidly, crept an arm part way around his waist. A far cry from the way she clung to him in the dead of night. But Kylo said nothing against her timidity. He would be patient.

He dragged his nose through her hair and said, “I’ll be damned. I’ve forgotten. Tell me again, Rey.”

She raised her head and positioned her mouth under his chin. It tickled. The warmth of her breath washed hot and silkily. “Kylo.”

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear.”

Her mouth slowly followed a path to his ear and she performed the same caress he had given her earlier. Kylo sucked in a breath and groaned.

“Kylo,” she whispered softly, warmly.

His eyes fell closed and he swallowed hard. “Aye. Just like that.” Merciful heavens! _Just like that._

“Again, please.”

Her lips moved on his earlobe, with slightly more freedom than before. “Kylo.” Firmer. Richer. Perfect.

He leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed still, needing to pull away before he asked her to do something reckless, like bite him. He would welcome the feel of her teeth and her tongue on him. Hell, if he weren’t careful, he would get himself worked up into a lather.

He cracked his eyelids open and ran his hand up her arm to her shoulder. He laid his hand on the side of her head, holding her there in the crook of his neck. He let them rest like that. Enjoyed it.

“I quite like this, my lady,” he whispered to her.

“Aye, my lord.”

“Who?”

Little spasms rocked her against him. He tilted his head over to look at her through his lashes. Aye, the lass was laughing. He would take that victory. He smiled as he rested his head again.

“I’m waiting.”

“You are a difficult man.”

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. “If I am ever being difficult, you should take me to task over it. I am in dire need of correction.”

“You want me to what?” She pulled back to look into his eyes.

“I want you to unleash that delightfully sharp tongue on me, especially when you think I’ve overstepped. Do your worst, my lady.” He smirked at the bewildered look in her lovely green eyes.

“My lord, you’ve gone daft—”

“Who?” he asked, scrunching his brow in confusion.

Her face loosened some of its tension. “Kylo.”

“If I’ve become unbalanced, it's all because of you, sweet Rey.”

He smiled down at her and Rey lifted shaky fingers to his chin. The tip of her finger traced downward along a groove in his cheek. A sweet touch. A warm pleasure. He hadn’t realized he would enjoy such times with his wife. His previous marriage never consisted of such. But this tenderness? This coaxing and teasing? Aye, he would have more of it, and more of it with Rey.

It gave him something more to look forward to each day he rose to greet the light that hadn’t abandoned him. To fill his arms with the weight of a gentle lass, to fill his nostrils with the sweetness of her scent, and to fill his days with the joy of her presence.

Life was suddenly worth the living again.

And his reason was curled up, warm and safe, in his arms, falling peacefully asleep.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vicrul saying, "Wee babby." *hyperventilates*
> 
> Found a "Not today, wench" [T-shirt design](https://www.redbubble.com/i/t-shirt/Not-today-Wench-by-fairladyrea/68526493.528ON), if interested.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work be heavily inspired by one of me favorite novels, This Is All I Ask written by Lynn Kurland. I've spun me own yarn on the tale.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Rey could deduce that Hux was not himself.

In the days since she’d been free of fever, Lord Ren had confined her to their bedchamber until the time in which he would deem her health restored. She was not granted leave to venture out of doors nor to explore the keep. And though her days had been the most peaceful of her life, she was bloody fed up with trying her hand at embroidery and pricking her fingers with a needle was deuced maddening. She was ready for some activity or occupation. Ready to feel the weight of her sword in her hands once more, and to swing it with the strength of her body. But her husband desired that she get her blasted rest.

Lord Ren had taken her care and recovery to heart. He had quite a firm hand on the matter and turned away any of Hux’s endeavors at assistance. Each time Lord Ren told the lad he had no need of him, Rey saw the boy’s spirits plummet. In the mornings, after Lord Ren oversaw her meal in the great hall, he would bid her good day and take Sir Vicrul with him to go about their duties, leaving Hux behind.

Her heart went out to Hux. Her presence had caused a drastic shift in Lord Ren’s attentions from his squire to herself. She did not want her young friend to feel as though he’d been replaced. He had been a bright spot in her dull days of seclusion in Lord Ren’s chamber, bringing her meals and news of the goings on in Exegol.

“Hux?” she called to him at his stool behind the table.

“Aye, my lady?” he responded, quite downcast, coming to stand by her seat.

“Might I prevail upon you this morn for the pleasure of your company?”

“‘Twould be my honor.” He smiled, but it was not his usual merry smile. He lacked that eager spark she’d come to recognize in him.

She placed her hand on his arm and he helped her rise from the table. As they slowly left the great hall she said, “Please tell me of your time as Lord Ren’s squire.” She knew the best way to draw him out was to talk of a subject he adored most. The same subject who’d plagued her with stern words and warm toes and appearances in her dreams.

Hux sighed too heavily for a boy of only ten and six, but he had, without a doubt, seen more of the world than she. “What is there to say?”

Oh, the poor dear. It was not in Hux’s nature to struggle at finding words. Each day his grief became a bit worse than the day before. Earlier in the week he’d eagerly told her of the tale of the harrowing days Lord Ren and his Knights had spent in search of her and how Chewie had been her true rescuer. They had laughed as the giant hound had splayed himself at their feet, waiting for the well-earned affection due him. But each day thereafter, Hux’s eagerness seemed to wane.

He led her to Lord Ren’s solar and built up a roaring fire. As they both settled, Rey tried to think of a way to get Hux to talk to her. There was wine on a table by the hearth. Perhaps he needed a few sips to ease his troubled mind.

“I should do well with a cup of wine. Will you partake with me?” she asked.

Hux served them both without comment. While Rey sipped slowly, Hux downed his wine quickly. First cup, gone.

Second cup.

Third cup. But the words had started to flow from him.

“My father wished that I would squire for the fiercest knight of the realm. When Lord Ren visited Arkanis, I was but six summers. He was in the company of Lord Calrissian of Bespin. My father and Calrissian are close friends. And I remember seeing Lord Ren of Exegol for the first time. Frightened me terribly. Helmed and armored in solid black and red. Looking like the Devil’s own. My father held a tourney that month. Lord Ren was the victor. My father came to an agreement with Lord Ren, and he vowed to train me up from my youth.”

The wine had done quite the job setting Hux on the path of loose lips. Rey was delighted. And she hungered for more stories of her husband. “What did you and Lord Ren do?”

“My lord took me on, right then, and kept me close. We went to tournaments all throughout the provinces. He collected his winnings at all of them in sword and in the joust. We would bring home trunks of gold! We fought in battles. We visited the King, spending time at court. He trained me well. I am a fortunate man to have been squired with Lord Ren. I would do anything for my master.”

Rey smiled as she listened. “You are devoted to him,” she said. “And he to you.”

“Aye,” he said softly, frowning a bit. “He doesn’t need me now that his injuries have much improved.” He hiccupped and drank down another goblet of wine.

“I do not believe that to be true. He still needs you. I do not wish to disrupt your place.”

Hux nodded and belched, not quite convinced.

“Tell me how he came to be injured.”

Hux swayed on his stool. “That was a dismal year, m-my lady. And I say this with the utmost respect to yourself, but not to _her._ I wish Lord Ren had never even seen that woman.” He shot his hand out and slapped the goblet on the table. “By God, she was beautiful. Terrible beautiful.”

Confused now, Rey asked who he was speaking of.

“Phasma. Phasma of Abraxas.”

The name that was anathema to speak, according to Lord Ren. She remembered Vicrul saying her name that day she’s hidden in this very room.

“But that is… was she Vicrul’s kin?”

“Aye, my lady. His sister. Sir Vicrul is ugly, but her... You wouldn’t have known the two came from the same womb, for his sister, merciful heavens… She had a face angels dreamt of having. Lord Ren had gone through the realm, unconquered by any man at sword or lance, yet that woman’s face felled him. And she seemed just as taken with my lord. And then terrible things… Only months after they wed, Lord Ren was out riding and was overtaken and wounded.

“Her Ladyship was completely beside herself, yet she wouldn’t see him. I didn’t understand it. She wouldn’t go to him…”

Rey numbed herself to the rest of Hux’s drunken chatter. Lord Ren had been felled by none other than a beautiful woman. His first wife. He must have loved her fiercely. She swallowed back a rush of emotion, for Rey was not beautiful. There was no way to make herself beautiful, was there? Sir Vicrul had even mentioned her looks. Oh, his knights and his people would tell her husband what an unsightly wife he had. If there were something she might do to improve her looks, perhaps he might love her. She wanted to be loved fiercely by her knight.

She left the solar, quite downcast. She left Hux behind in the midst of his tale and with another half-empty goblet of wine. The passageway in front of her narrowed into a mere pinpoint of light. Her breaths grew labored. Her mind raced. She stopped mid stride when she heard the animated voices of the washer wenches coming from the linen room.

“That remedy worked for me. The old woman knew exactly what I needed. I’m convinced she could cure a cow from wantin’ to eat grass!”

“Oh, aye, I bought one of those sachets of herbs. The ones to make you more desirable.” The woman speaking tittered. “My bed’s not been empty for days!”

“Do tell me where I can find her!” another said. Rey leaned close to the doorway to hear for herself where she could locate this woman who made remedies.

“Down the village. They be a short walk past the tanner’s shop…”

Rey memorized what the women said as she slipped past the door. Perhaps the old woman they spoke of could help her. Perhaps there was a remedy to make her beautiful.

She had no desire to go back to Lord Ren’s chamber. She took the passageway that would lead her to the battlements. If Lord Ren caught her out, he would scold her good for being reckless with her health. But she knew she was well enough, and she needed the fresh air for proper thinking.

As she mounted the spiral stairs, she heard an odd sound. She stopped and peeked around the corner to see a knight leaning a serving wench up against the cold stone wall. Rey covered her mouth to keep from making a noise. The woman was arching her back, lifting her naked breasts up to the knight’s mouth.

Merciful heavens! She turned back toward the stairs, heart pounding, and listened as the pair moaned and panted and moaned.

She was reminded of someone else’s moan. Lord Ren had moaned like that when she had brushed up against him in the bed the night before as he slept. Was that a moan of pleasure or of pain? Rey could not figure which. And why did that woman uncover her breasts? She did not understand any of it.

Lord Ren hadn’t tried to touch her breasts or do anything resembling whatever that couple was doing. He’d kept his distance once her feet and hands were warmed of a night. There had been no moaning. Though that day in the solar, she’d nearly moaned his name when he’d nuzzled her neck and ear. It had felt wondrously fine. Yet in the days since, he had not attempted to nuzzle her again. She wouldn’t have minded it. Perhaps she needed to encourage Lord Ren to touch her. Oh, but she didn’t have the courage to do it.

She must find this old woman in the village. If someone could help her, the woman with the remedies and the sachets may be the right person. If she perhaps made beauty remedies or had a brew for bravery; that was precisely what Rey needed. She needed to be beautiful and brave to win her husband. The serving wenches’ conversation still haunted her, how Lord Ren would have kept her if she’d conceived. She needed to win him to have a babe. He would love her if she had his babe, wouldn’t he?

Rey gladly returned to Lord Ren’s chamber instead of going to the battlements. She had no wish to run into the couple still moaning in the hallway.

She was only there a few moments, pacing the floor, when Lord Ren came in, calling her name.

She halted in the middle of the chamber and stared at her husband. He had removed his sword belt and wore a soft tunic that exposed his strong neck and the upper curve of his chest. She remembered the way he had moaned. Her cheeks flamed with heat, wondering what it would feel like if he ever touched her bubbies.

“Aye, my lord?” she said quickly.

The corner of his mouth tilted up and he said, “Why do you—”

He ceased his question abruptly, mashing his soft lips together. He stood straight and resumed his customary frown. “The day has turned fine and I came to see if you would join me for a time in the garden.” He held his hand out for her to take.

Rey shook her untoward thoughts and nearly ran to his outstretched hand. She was desperate for some stolen moments out of doors. She rested her fingers in his palm and said, nearly out of breath, “Of course, my lord. Please.”

His frown deepened. “Has your fever returned?” He let her go and traced his fingers along her shoulders, finally reaching her neck and face. He cupped her head in his hands. “You feel quite warm.”

“‘Tis only because I’ve been near the fire. I’ve no fever.”

She was afraid she’d not been convincing enough, that he would renege on his offer to go out to his garden, but he finally grunted and nodded and took her hand again. He led her out of the hall and into the sunshine. He pulled her close to his side and put her arm around his waist. He put his arm around her shoulders. Rey’s face burned with more heat, but she welcomed the comfort of his arm. All the way to the secluded herb garden. His feet never missed a step, and she marveled at that.

“I’ve been looking forward to bringing a saucy maid into my garden,” he told her.

“Oh?” Rey said. “Who would that be, my lord?”

Lord Ren snorted. “Well, now. Who is this? I could have sworn it was my wife under my arm. Damn me.” He pulled her in front of him and put his hands on her waist.

“Aye, that feels like my lady wife.” His hands moved up her arms to her neck and hair. His fingers carded through the silky waves and he leaned down to sniff her hair. “Aye, that smells like my lady wife.”

Rey bit back a smile, unsure where her retort had come from.

“Say my name, and then I shall truly know if I have the right maid before me.”

She did smile at that. Lord Ren’s thumbs caught the upturn of the corners of her lips. One of his thumbs lightly caressed below her bottom lip. Rey had trouble catching her breath as she stared up at her husband. He had unbelievably fine eyes that she often got lost in when she had the courage to look into them.

“Do you need to be reminded again, my lady?” he asked with a smirk.

She looked down, feeling her face burn again. “Perhaps.”

“Hm.” He took her hand again and sat them down in a patch of sunlight near the back of the garden. He assisted her to a grassy seat and he laid by her side. But he pivoted and placed his head in her lap. He took her hand again and Rey could only stare down at him. The garden around her, forgotten.

She examined his features. Straight black brows that slightly winged up in the middle. A long nose that was large and strong. High, blunt cheekbones, pale skin that was scattered with freckles and moles. And that scar. Did he get the scar in battle or when he was injured and lost his sight? Her eyes fell on his mouth. He had the most intriguing mouth, shadowed by black hair above and below. Full lips that she wanted to feel against her own. She trembled slightly at that thought.

“Are you chilled?” he asked.

“Nay,” she murmured. Not chilled in the least. She shivered because he made her feel shaky on the inside.

“You tremble,” he rumbled, eyes staring up at her. “Rey, do you still fear me?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. She did not fear him as she did when she first arrived at Exegol. Now she had a respectful kind of fear, the kind you retain for storms or for the sea, remembering that they were mighty and powerful and could overtake you should they desire it.

He placed her hand flat on his chest and pressed it there. “I take great care of what belongs to me. Hux has been in my care since he was a tiny boy. Think you he is ill-treated?”

“Nay.”

“Have you ever seen me beat him?”

Another negative.

“Have you ever heard me shout at him?”

“Aye. Many times.”

Lord Ren laughed. “Aye, I suppose I do. I’ll most likely shout at you, wife, but here’s the rub: You may shout back.”

Rey smiled again when her husband closed his eyes. She tilted her head toward the sun and looked over the garden toward the bailey. Lord Ren’s fortress was massively large, and could fit Niima inside it one or two times. The black walls, all built from the black stone quarried from the black hills around them, were no less forbidding in the sunlight.

Her attention went back to Lord Ren. His mouth had relaxed and her eyes were drawn to his lips again. She was curious if they were as soft as they looked. Hesitantly, she raised her finger and very lightly grazed his lower lip. Oh, it was very soft.

She jerked her hand away when she realized that she was touching His Lordship’s mouth.

He caught her hand and put it back on his face. “Do not stop.”

“Oh, my lord…” 

He nipped at the skin on her index finger and she jolted. “I’ve a name, Rey. Please use it.”

She shivered again, but she rested her hand along his unscarred cheek. She allowed only the tip of her finger to draw slow circles along his jaw. Her husband eventually relaxed into her thigh and she was sure he’d fallen asleep. She couldn’t help leaning over and dropping a gentle kiss on his forehead.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Rey had to act fast before the day became too advanced. She had no wish to be caught outside the postern gate in the outer wall that opened up on the path that led down to the village. She pulled the hood of her dark woolen cloak low over her head, praying no one would take notice of her. She did not know the village, but the hope in her heart guided her feet.

There were some hard looks sent her way, but under the folds of her cloak, her hand gripped tight to the hilt of her sword. If anyone dared cross her, they would feel the sting of her blade.

She prayed desperately that no one would bother her.

Her boots squished along the mud in the path as she came to the busiest part of the village. A colorful market square. Pavilions and booths were set up for trade and selling wares and produce and game. Rey’s eyes were drawn to the commotion, but she was not interested in any of the new and fascinating things she could see. She only wished to find the tanner’s shop and the hut that lay beyond it.

Her quest took her farther down into a much poorer part of the village. The last sign she could read set her heart pounding. She was close. The tanner’s shop smelled of leather, but as she passed it, several huts away, she picked up the distinct aroma of lavender.

The door stood open to a warmly lit hut and Rey’s feet took her there. Before she could raise her hand to knock on the opened door, a tiny old woman stepped into the light.

Rey gasped as the old woman’s face became visible. She knew that face.

“Maz… I was sure you were naught but a dream,” she murmured to the old woman.

The woman chuckled heartily. “No dreams. No tricks. It pleases me that you are well, child,” Maz said. “Now, if you are here, you must need something desperately. Let us get to it! You should not linger long outside the walls.”

Rey’s eyebrows went high when Maz took her hand and led her into the small hut. She removed her hood and saw the inside was full up with drying herbs dangling above them, shelves along the walls lined with tiny pots, a cooking fire in the hearth, a neatly made trundle bed in the corner, and a large work table took up the middle of the room. Behind the worktable was a younger woman who was grinding something with a mortar and pestle. She greeted Rey with a sweet smile.

“Good day, my lady,” the woman said.

“Good day,” Rey returned softly. She had the sense she recognized her. “What is your name?” she asked.

“Rose, my lady.”

Maz raised her hand and the bracelets on her wrists jingled. “If you overgrind that mixture, my dear, it will be of no use! Have a care with your technique.”

Maz pulled two stools together near the fire. “Have a seat, child, and tell old Maz what it is you need.”

“I need your aid. I overheard women talking about your remedies. I am in desperate need of… of… beauty and… courage.”

Maz inspected her closely, took Rey’s hand into her own and covered it. Maz’s hands were just as gnarled and weathered as she remembered in her dream.

“Oh, child. These are qualities you possess.”

“My lord’s first wife was beautiful. I cannot win him as I am. Is there something you can do for me? I have no gold at present, but I would pay you well.”

“Beauty and courage, hm?”

“Aye. If I were beautiful like his first wife and brave, he might take a better liking to me. He has not… if he liked me, we would be well on our way to having a child, but he has not… And he would love the mother of his child, would he not?” She looked to Maz for reassurance.

Maz blinked and nodded. “Well, bravery and beauty it is, then. My lady, you shall see.” She rose to gather a tiny pouch and several pots of herbs. The old woman pinched and mixed and tied up the pouch. Rose sat a little pot by Maz’s elbow, but Maz only pushed it away.

Rose, however, would not be thwarted and picked up the little pot and smacked it back down again in front of Maz. Maz gave her a stony glare, but relented. She picked up the little pot, along with the little pouch and brought them to Rey, who was frowning over their silent argument.

Maz gave her quick instruction on what she must do for the remedies to be effective.

Rey nodded solemnly, prepared to do all she must to win the heart of her Devil.

“All the payment I require is to know how your endeavors progress. Be well, my lady, and hurry back to your lord.”

Rey thanked her and Rose with a smile and turned back toward the fortress. Her heart burned within her breast, eager to do the things Maz told her to do. She would be successful. Now that she had what she needed, she could not fail.

Once she made it back inside Lord Ren’s chamber, she removed her cloak and sword and she washed her hands and face. Then she poured the wine. She was dropping a pinch of the herbs into the wine when Sir Vicrul burst into the chamber and frightened the daylights out of her.

“Cease what you are doing, wench!” he bellowed.

Rey’s herbs went flying.

Sir Vicrul stormed over and glared. “Do you mean to poison His Lordship?”

Rey fell to her knees and gathered the spilled herbs. Oh, they’d gone everywhere!

“Stop this! What are you about?” he growled as he jerked her up from the floor.

“They aren’t for Lord Ren,” she cried. “They’re for me! And you’ve made me spill them!”

“Are your circumstances so dire that you wish to take your own life?” he asked, bewildered.

Rey pulled out of his grip and scrambled to gather what she could of Maz’s remedy. Sir Vicrul stopped her once again, pulling her face up to his so he could look her in the eye.

“I asked you a question, Lady Rey. Why would you wish to take your own life?”

Rey sniffed back a silly tear that wanted to fall. “These herbs are to help make me beautiful and brave. I need them so Lord Ren will love me.”

She sniffed again and looked down at the mess. “And now they’re all over the floor.”

Sir Vicrul sniffed, said nothing else, but he helped her to gather up all that had spilled. Helped her put it back in the pouch. He pointed to the goblet that already had a sprinkle resting on the surface of the wine.

“Perhaps I should test it for ye. Make sure it works, and whatnot.”

“I’ve not much to spare,” Rey hedged. But she poured him a small amount of wine and sprinkled her herbs, the tiniest pinch, into it.

Vicrul downed the concoction and waited. Smacked his lips. Blinked over at Rey.

“Well? Any change?”

The disappointment was sharp. Vicrul’s cruel visage was unchanged.

“Nay,” she whispered.

Vicrul cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. “Perhaps it takes a bit longer for these… potions to work. Aye? A little time and patience… That is what I be thinkin’ on the matter.”

Rey nodded. “I’ve a salve to put on my face as well. She said I must drink the herbs and put the salve on once or twice a day after I’ve cleaned my face. Would you like a bit of the salve?”

He grumbled. “Maybe I ought to try it, aye? See that it don’t burn ye.”

“Go and wash. I’ll put it on you first.” Rey picked up her goblet. She closed her eyes and prayed before she downed the whole of her remedy in four great gulps.

Vicrul dried his face and bent at the waist toward her. Rey opened the pot of salve and began to rub it onto his cheeks and forehead. She was very careful with it, because she did not wish to waste any.

As she sat the pot back on the table and looked up at Vicrul to inspect her work, a clattering noise came from the chamber door. Both Rey and Vicrul startled as their eyes swung to Lord Ren.

“What in seven hells are you doing with my wife?”

⁜ ⸎ ⁜


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is heavily inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Kylo had only a few matters of import on his mind. All of those important matters centered around his lady wife.

He was quite pleased that Rey was beginning to grow comfortable around him. He still savored the sweetness she’d given him in his herb garden. Though he could not coax her to say his given name, her tongue had found a tentative boldness that made him proud. Then he’d felt her warm lips upon his forehead.

Surely these were signs that she was beginning to trust in him.

Had she trusted him fully, perhaps that kiss would have been placed in a much more agreeable spot. On his own lips, for instance.

He desperately wanted to bed her, but he would not. Not until she was ready and indicated that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. ‘Twas only fitting to offer her time and to give her his patience, what little he had of such a virtue.

He could wait. And he could likely die of the sweet torment in the process. Nay, he would wait because Rey had much taken from her in her life. He did not wish to take more from her. He wanted her to want him in return.

Another matter arose. He’d come so close to giving away his secret. When he’d found her in his chamber, out of breath, cheeks blushed to a rosy hue with her green and gold eyes aglow, he’d almost asked her why she looked so fetching.

As it was, his blindness allowed him to touch her without ceremony. Innocent touching, aye, but he’d grown powerful fond of running his hands along her cheek or through her hair. She had fleshed out just slightly with proper meals; her cheeks had lost that gauntness he’d first seen when his eyes began to work again. Her dark hair had softened and developed a becoming shine. She was blossoming before his very eyes and it pleased him to no end.

All those pleased feelings came tumbling down around his feet when he went to find Rey to bring her down for the evening meal.

His chamber was open, and inside, his brother-in-law was bent over toward Rey and Rey had her hands on his brother-in-law’s face.

Deep down he knew there was no thread of treachery winding through either of them. He knew Vic to be the most loyal of men. Kylo had placed all his trust in Vic in his darkest times. And Vic had never failed him. Rey, his wife, whom he would have, at the first, been quick to accuse of betrayal, he knew now there wasn’t a duplicitous bone in her body.

And yet…

Yet seeing them together, so closely, almost as if sharing something as intimate as a kiss, it flared an ugly kind of anger in his breast. A sour wave twisted in his gut. His fists clenched. His eye twitched. His teeth could have bitten through stone. It was a foreign feeling, unwelcome and harsh.

“What in seven hells are you doing with my wife?”

It was jealousy. It made him blind and it made him forget.

The two broke apart guiltily. He latched on to that. That guilt. He let the heat of the ugly feeling spread within him.

Rey’s face stood out. Her eyes, so wide and rounded, looked to him, then back to Vicrul. Her sweet mouth that he dreamt of kissing fell open in a stunned sort of disbelief. Vicrul patted her on the arm and turned her bodily away. Kylo heard him say to her, “Put on your salve, my lady. I’ll deal with His Lordship.”

Rey turned again to gape at him as Vicrul stomped toward the door. Kylo swallowed hard, understanding a few things in that moment. 

The first, he didn’t want anyone else to touch his wife. The second, he’d just given away his secret.

There was no way to hide the fact that he could clearly see them, not unless he lied cleverly. But he found he did not want to lie to his wife. Only the truth now. Now Rey knew he could see them. That he could see her just as clearly as she could see him.

He was sure he’d just lost that tenuous trust he’d been trying so hard to build between them.

Kylo allowed Vicrul to shove him out of the chamber, all the while his eyes remained on Rey’s face. He could read it now, the realization, the horror and embarrassment, the betrayal. He blinked and bowed his head. He followed Vicrul up to the tower chamber.

Once they faced off, Kylo crossed his arms and firmed his jaw. He looked Vicrul in the eye.

“If you’ve kissed her, I vow I’ll kill you.”

“God’s bones, Kylo! I’ve not kissed her. She’s lovely, to be sure, but she’s your wife! You’re the only family I’ve got left and I would never betray you like that. 

“I followed her today. She was oblivious, the poor chit. ‘Twas your hide I was lookin’ after. She went down and visited some healer named Maz. Now, I was aiming to whittle out some deception in the wench’s heart, to see if she was aiming to harm ye, but ‘twasn’t what was happening.”

He cocked a brow at Vic.

“Kylo, you and I, we have tourneyed together. We have went off warring together. You’ve saved my skin countless times and I’ve saved yours. And in the past years, in your affliction, you’ve needed me to keep watch on the people around you. I felt it my duty to ye to see what the girl had planned.

“Though it was difficult to suspect her of anything, I seen what she came from under Plutt’s heavy hand. But I watched her through the door. I saw her pour what I thought was poison into the goblet. I jumped in and scared the lass, thinkin’ it might’ve been you she was aimin’ to poison, but…”

Vic leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, sobering abruptly.

“What happened?” Kylo urged.

Vic scrunched his face up and sniffed, swiping a fist under his nose. “That little lass… She might be the most precious treasure you ever brought into this keep,” he said, gruff and soft. “She was puttin’ herbs into a goblet of wine to drink. Said they were for making her beautiful and brave. Do you know why she wants to be beautiful and brave?”

“Why?” he asked softly.

“She said she needed them so you would fall in love with her.”

Kylo fell against the opposite wall to hold him upright. She wanted to win him? Win his love?

“She wants to win your heart, but she’s afraid she cannot do so as she is. Feckin’ hell. I’m leaking.” Vic dashed the heels of his palms along his cheeks. He made a loud, growling noise in the back of his throat.

“I tested that healer’s rot on myself first. I don’t think it will hurt her. She was putting that scented sludge on my face when you walked in.”

She wanted him? She did not think he wanted her as she was? God’s teeth! And he’d just…

“Oh, hell fire! I’ve just given away my secret.”

“What’s that?

“I’ve not yet told her I can see.”

“What? She’s not known?”

“It never came up. I’m sure she knows now.”

Vicrul started laughing. He laughed until he couldn’t stand upright.

He finally wheezed out, “I hope those courage herbs take hold because I want to see what that little lass is going to do to you!”

His brother continued to howl out his mirth as he left the tower chamber and trudged down the stairs.

Kylo threaded his fingers through his hair and thought long and hard on what Vic had said. So his little wife wanted to please him. He knew she’d said something similar in her delirium, but he’d not put a great deal of weight to her feverish words. She had wanted to give him a babe and to please him.

Merciful God, he’d not thought of much else these last days but bedding his wife. As he’d waited for her to recover, as he readied for bed, as he’d taken her hands and feet to warm, as he’d lain awake, in the mornings when he rose, during the daylight hours when his concentration was needed elsewhere. Her sweet form still set his loins afire when he closed his eyes.

He left the tower chamber in haste. Down to his chamber to find his wife. He expected her to still be there. But she was not.

He sighed heavily and began the search.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Rey returned to her own chamber. Sword belted at her waist, she waited. She was almost certain of what she’d witnessed before in Lord Ren’s chamber. She was almost certain that there wasn’t a thing wrong with Lord Ren’s eyesight. Trouble was, she didn’t know what kind of trick he was playing or why. He was blind when they had married, was he not? Blind and stumbling and clumsy. Aye, she remembered.

Yet he’d seen her with Sir Vicrul. He’d stared directly at her, all the emotion on his face clear and distinct. Oh, he did not like that Vicrul had been there with her in his chamber. Not that she understood entirely why.

She did not understand why or how it was that he could see!

If he could see, that meant he’d seen her face. Had been seeing her face. Rey touched her cheek, feeling the smooth texture of the salve she’d applied. It was silky and clean and smelled lovely. She wondered if it would help her, but wondered if it even mattered. Lord Ren now knew for himself she was ugly.

Then, there came that doubt, that nagging doubt that she could have been terribly mistaken. She felt a fool thinking she was about to accuse a blind man of not being blind to his face. But she had a plan. She only need wait and see.

She waited in her room, candlelight ablaze. She would discover the truth.

The heart of her picked up pace when she heard loud laughter. She frowned and wondered if they laughed at her. Oh, that angered her. She fingered the hilt of her blade, only getting angrier.

Not much longer after the laughter faded away, she heard booted footsteps out in the hall. She drew her sword, set her feet wide, and pointed the sharp tip at the busted door that had not yet been repaired.

The footsteps slowed again near her chamber. Her warped door was pushed open.

Lord Ren stood on the threshold looking in at her.

_Let him come. Let us see if he walks into my blade._

“Rey,” he rumbled. She gave him no reply. Watched him swallow. Watched his lips close in a tight frown.

He stepped closer and Rey very nearly relented her position. She truly did not wish to run him through if she was wrong!

But he stopped. Lord Ren used the knuckle of his index finger to raise the end of her blade. He positioned the tip over his chest.

“‘Tis the merciful blow, my lady. Through my heart,” he said quietly.

‘Twas all too true. He could see. Rey closed her eyes, feeling defeated. Her anger, however, did not lessen.

“Perhaps I want it to hurt,” she said, finally looking up.

His eyes flared hot at her retort. He almost smiled. That facial hair over his lip tipped up at the corner.

“I doubt it not,” he murmured, frowning again.

Rey shook her head and lowered her eyes. She did not wish to hurt her husband. She sighed heavily and lowered her sword, returning it to its sheath.

“I loathe tricks. Why does it feel as though you have tricked me? I know not what to think.”

“No trick, Rey. Nothing of the sort. I have you to thank for the return of my eyesight.”

Rey was taken aback. She opened her mouth and stuttered, “M—me?”

“Aye.” He had the audacity to smile at her. A beautiful smile with crooked teeth that made her heart soften. She liked his smile very much.

“Had you not taken the notion to rearrange the furniture in my chamber, we would not be having this argument, and I would not be seeing you with my own eyes.”

Lord Ren lowered his head, but his eyes, sharp and fierce, remained steadfast on hers.

“Why did you not tell me?” she asked. 

“I did not tell anyone I could see again, at first. I was afeared that it wasn’t real. That it wouldn’t last. I still have pain behind my eyes at times, and after each prolonged pain, I’m certain that when I open my eyes again, I’ll find myself drowning in the darkness.”

He reached for her but she drew back, unwilling to give her hand to him. His expression grew pained and she was sorry for it. But he continued.

“Days passed while you stayed in your chamber, and then the day came when I chased you away. I hurt you deeply and I’m sorry for it. When I brought you home, I heard you speak in your fever, how you thought you weren’t…” He swallowed hard and seemed to chew over his next words.

“You were under the impression you’re not beautiful,” he whispered. “When I heard it, I decided I did not want to scare you away. You seemed glad I couldn’t see, and I wanted you to open up to me, and if you thought it better if I were blind, then it would not hurt you if you still thought me blind.

“But you must know, Rey. You have to know. I was told before I met you that you weren’t comely. That you lacked beauty. Lies. These were lies.

“Rey, if you hadn’t put that stool in my path, and if I hadn’t knocked myself silly against the corner of that trunk, I wouldn’t be able to see the truth for myself. I owe you a debt of gratitude. And I give thanks to God that I can see you.”

Rey was shaking. She could hardly believe what he was telling her. He… did not find her disgusting to look upon?

She raised an unsteady hand and gestured to her face. “I know I am not comely…”

He stepped close to her then. Rested his hands on her shoulders so she couldn’t turn away.

“Look at me, Rey. Look at this nose. Only a horse can claim one bigger.” He reached up and pushed his long, thick black hair away from the sides of his head. “Look at these ears. These are not the ears of a handsome man. I was told enough times growing up that I could flap them and take off in flight should I concentrate hard enough.” He bared his teeth next and pointed to his mouth. “These teeth make children cry when I smile at them.”

Rey snorted and could feel herself, impossibly, smiling. Crying and smiling. She shook her head at him, unable to cease smiling.

“Look at that smile. If I were blind, I’d never have been able to see such radiance. God’s teeth, it’s good to have eyes!”

His hands came up to her hair and she stilled at his touch. She went hot and burned with embarrassment.

“Your sight returned the day you fell?” she asked quietly.

He frowned slightly at her shift in manner. He nodded carefully.

“Then you…” She gasped and looked down. “You could see me when I bathed.”

He gripped her a little tighter, pulled her fully into his arms. She was stiff and unyielding against his body.

“I saw nothing that any other husband wouldn’t see when gazing upon his wife. And I saw nothing that displeased me.” She shuddered at the deep tone of voice he used.

But he wasn’t finished. “Saw you anything displeasing when you found me fresh out of the bath?”

Rey groaned and dropped her head to his chest. There was nothing about Lord Ren that was displeasing, not to her. She shook her head against him, needing to dignify his question with the truth.

He squeezed her tight within his arms and buried his nose in her hair. 

“There, now. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me for my deceit, innocent as it was?”

She relaxed slightly against him. Took a deep breath. “I shall think on it.”

He snorted and nuzzled his face against her hair. “You do that. And while you think on it, remember this: You please me to no end. Do you understand, Rey?”

It was difficult to fathom such a beautiful statement from the Devil of Exegol. Her husband, pleased with her. She wanted to weep.

She nodded, face still smashed to his chest. “Aye, my lord.”

“Who?” he grunted. “Woman, you’ve seen me without a stitch on. Surely we are past the formalities. Why don’t you use my name?”

Another round of embarrassment. Rey brought up her hands and covered her eyes.

At last, she gave him what he wanted, peeking up into his soft brown eyes. Breathed it like a solemn prayer.

“Kylo.”

And he gave her a wonderful smile, just for her.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Tis duly fitting of me to report that this here Fanfic story be inspired by Lynn Kurland's novel: This Is All I Ask. 'Tis a favorite of mine.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Rey was always within arm’s reach of her husband the rest of the evening. He kept her hand in his, stroking her skin with the softest caress. She feared she blushed through the whole meal. His attentiveness had changed drastically since just hours prior. He watched her closely as she ate. Truth be told, his eyes never left her.

Lord Ren leaned close and murmured to her, “I would know what it is you think on. What is it that makes you blush so...”

She huffed slightly, cheeks burning, and smartly returned, “‘Tis very forward of you to ask such a thing.”

Lord Ren moved closer. “Not as forward as I’d like,” he rumbled.

“What is your meaning?” she asked, flicking her gaze to his. All his concentration seemed to be resting upon her. It made her fluttery on the inside.

“I mean that I’d prefer to be alone with you, in our bedchamber, where ‘tis warm and quiet. Where I can sit in front of the fire and I’d convince you to sit with me. Perhaps compel you to whisper my name to me.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “I’d ask you if you’d like to share a kiss.”

Rey let slip a tiny gasp. Her eyes snagged on Lord Ren’s lips. They were almost curved up in a gentle smile as he stared at her. Would she like to share a kiss with him? Oh, aye. She would. She trembled thinking about his lips near hers.

“I know not how to kiss.”

His hand tightened on hers. “Shall we retire for the evening? I find I am very eager to teach you.”

Rey sat there and panted lightly. Her fingers twitched in his.

“Come, Lady Ren, Mistress of Exegol, let me see that boldness once again.”

She blinked and thought about the courage infused into the wine she’d drunk earlier that day. Aye, she could be bold. She met Lord Ren’s dark gaze and nodded.

Lord Ren seemed to swell within his own skin at her acquiescence. He helped her rise with all haste and gave her his arm. She laid her trembling hand upon it and they quit the crowded hall. Rey was filled with trepidation, but it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant feeling.

She had to nearly run to keep up with Lord Ren’s quick pace. He pulled her into their chamber and locked the door. He sat her in his chair by the hearth and built up the fire. He remained silent and she waited through his work with heart-pounding anxiety. He was going to kiss her and she was going to know what his lips felt like upon hers. She licked her bottom lip in anticipation.

She was still soaring the heights after he’d told her that she pleased him. That all of her pleased him. Her soul had been singing since that moment and it hadn’t ceased its song. She trembled when her tall, dark Devil finally finished and turned to look at her. She stood from the chair, trying to hide how much she quivered. But he would know as soon as he touched her.

“Rey? Are you warm enough?”

She wiped her damp hands down the front of her skirts. “Aye,” she whispered.

“Will you come to me?” he asked her.

There were only two steps between them. Rey marveled that he did not grab her and take. He was asking her to come to him willingly. She closed the distance from her to him and shut her eyes as she lifted her face. Rey expected that he would take her mouth then. She only hoped that he would be gentle about it.

His large, warm hands settled at the base of her neck, circling it slightly. His thumbs brushed up her throat. Her lips parted with a shaky sigh when he lifted her chin a little higher. But nothing happened. Her eyes fluttered open.

“How do you want to be kissed, Rey?” he asked her, his soft brown eyes trailing over her face.

She relaxed only slightly. “Gently,” she breathed.

“Teach me to be gentle with you,” he whispered, bringing his lips closer. “You must tell me. Teach me how I may please you.” His bottom lip nudged her top lip as he spoke to her.

Rey’s breath caught in her throat. She pushed up on the tips of her toes and brought her lips fully against his. Her hands landed on his great chest and wound up and around his neck. She trembled still as his arms banded around her. But his lips…

Oh, his lips, soft and hot, moved to overtake. The gentlest covering, and her lips moved in like manner, following where he led. He retreated. She advanced. Pressure. Soft suckling. The scrape of teeth. The lap of his tongue. She hesitated before she returned the same caress. She could taste him. He tasted of wine and warmth and smoky peat. She whimpered, knowing that one taste of him would never be enough.

“I ache for you, Rey,” he mouthed to the side of her lips before tasting her with a deeper lick.

She clung now to his neck, breathing raggedly, unable to take her mouth from his. Unwilling to stop. He suckled upon her tongue and she cried out. One of his arms fell down below her bottom and he used it to lift her, fitting her higher on his body, closer to his mouth. Every bit of her that could flutter reached out for him. Even the secret places within her reached out for her husband. She threaded her fingers through his hair, close to his scalp, so she could fit her mouth more tightly with his.

They could have been kissing for hours. He sat them in his chair and she rested upon his lap, and she no longer trembled from fear of the unknown. Her hands were free to explore his face. She exulted his kisses. She thought she only needed gentle touches, but she found she enjoyed even his devouring kisses that stole her breath and her sense. Just as long as he was kissing her, she adored every bit of it.

And, aye, the aching. For what she ached, she could not say, but she understood his aching. She could feel it too.

They soon slowed. The kisses became gentler. Softer. Until they were able to look on one another by the firelight.

“You’ve changed,” she said, staring into his wonderful eyes. Eyes that caught her and held her and kept her.

“How so?” he rumbled deeply.

“You’re more gentle than you were before.”

His swollen lips tilted in half a smile. He brought his large hand to the side of her face and he cupped her cheek. His thumb caressed and traced her features. “‘Tis no one’s fault but your own, Lady Rey.”

“All the stories I heard of you frightened me so. You frightened me, but you are not at all what I expected.”

“Are you frightened of me now?”

“You make me feel safe,” she whispered, laying her head on his shoulder.

He tightened his embrace. “You enjoyed my kisses?”

She smiled. “I found them tolerable.”

“Saucy little wench,” he muttered. “You liked them.” He began to wind her hair around a long finger.

“Would it be shameful to admit I liked them?”

“No, love. Never.”

Her heart panged at that sweet word.  _ Love. _ Would he love her now?

“Will we have a child soon?”

The hand coiling her hair stopped moving. Lord Ren stopped breathing.

“Rey…. We… We have only kissed.”

“Oh. Aye. Right. I know.” She knew nothing, in fact.

He began to smooth her hair along the side of her arm. “Rey, tell me what you know. How is a child made?”

She settled her head more firmly on his shoulder. She fiddled with the neck of his tunic. “Oh, I know there’s a bit of moaning. I think. And it does not seem a pleasant prospect. But I vow I do not understand much of it at all.”

He hummed shortly and she could feel the vibrations. “It can be pleasant. Very pleasant,” he said.

“Will you explain it to me?” she asked.

He chuckled. She watched his mouth try to form words. He smiled in a way that made her think he didn’t know quite what to say. He finally smashed his lips together and sat her up to lean back against him so he could see her.

His focus sharpened on her eyes as he lifted his hand. Rey’s breath faltered when he laid it low on her belly. It was large and hot and spanned nearly all the way across her. He left it there and swallowed hard as he focused again on her eyes.

“The first time it is done, it may cause you pain. Perhaps some pain. Uh…” He swallowed again, the warm glow from the fire making his cheeks appear reddened.

“To put a child here,” he said, drawing his attention to his hand on her belly, “I will have to plant the seed.” He dipped his head down to stare into her eyes. It was harder to breathe. His hand began to move. Slowly downward.

Rey gasped and clutched his wrist. He stopped immediately, but continued to watch her.

“I am at your command, Rey. Remember this. I do not want to frighten you again. When we are together like this, you must speak your wishes. Do you see?” he asked, voice firm.

She could only nod slightly, but she did see. He was giving her power over him and confidence in herself.

“Shall I continue?” he asked, as a black brow drew upward.

All her skirts suddenly felt too hot and too heavy. Continue? But she nodded and said, “Aye,” unsure of where he meant to go.

Her hand loosened on his wrist, and his splayed hand traveled slowly downward again, down until he rested it on top of her mound. Rey’s mouth fell open and breaths started leaving her chest faster. His eyes remained steadfast on hers. Her fist clenched on his wrist again.

He stopped. Hovered over that sensitive place with his big hand and long fingers. “Shall I continue?” he asked again. “There’s more.”

“More?” she squeaked.

“Much more.”

Her curiosity allowed her to nod, eyes wide, mouth still agape.

His fingertips dropped down. They slowly traced the cleft of her. Pressed gently into her. She squirmed in his arms at the foreign sensation. It was a wicked thing he did, surely!

“There is a place here, inside.” He touched her through her clothes more deeply. A little grunt escaped her mouth. He kept his eyes on hers, pinning her in place with the weight of his stare.

“This is where it happens.” His fingertip circled slowly between her legs. She sucked in a quick breath.

The feeling was too much!

She stopped his hand, pushed it away. She sat up and had to squeeze her thighs together. She tried to quash the sensations his hand left behind.

Rey frowned up at him, still trembling, still unsure. “Where do you get the seed?”

He cuddled her close again, rubbed his lips against her temple, and said, “You’re becoming quite the brave little lass. Shall I show you? You’ve seen my planting tool before.”

“Have I?”

“Give me your hand.”

He lifted her and stood from the chair, setting her on her feet before him. When she gave him her hand, he put a kiss on the center of her palm. He set her hand on his chest and clasped her wrist. He kept pressure on her hand and brought it down his body, dragging over his black woolen tunic until he stopped her hand at his parts.

Rey’s eyes flew back to Kylo’s. Aye, she’d looked upon him while he had been naked. But there was something odd about what she felt beneath his hose. It had firmed and lengthened and it throbbed under her touch. She did not realize the body could do such things!

“Oh… It’s… Oh!” Her imagination went wild when she traced the shape of him. He groaned at her touch. Her face flamed when she realized what she was doing to his person. She released him and stepped back.

“Where… Where will you do it?”

He smiled at her and slipped his hand into her hair, brushing it over her shoulder. “Well, my lady, we could do it in the bed. It could happen upon the floor. We could be standing. Or sitting. You could be on your belly. We could be face to face. Any number of ways. Shall we try them all? The first time will be uncomfortable, but I am hopeful that it will be pleasurable soon after. I want it to be good for you. I will do what I can.”

As good as her imagination could be, she could not fathom what he was telling her. It did not sound pleasurable in the least.

“And when will you plant this seed?” she asked hoarsely, winding her fingers nervously together.

“Not tonight,” he murmured. “Not until you want me to. Not until you ask me.”

Merciful saints! Ask? “How am I to ask such a thing?”

“You may ask me with a kiss, or a touch. You may ask in any way you wish, but you must use my name, and you must ask.” He grinned down at her and she shook her head, almost ready to laugh, despite all her ignorance and misgivings.

“Now, come back to me and show me how you want to be kissed. Give me a kiss and you shall get one in return,” he said with a wicked upturn of his lips.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Days passed in peaceful bliss.

Rey became accustomed to Lord Ren’s tender amusements. She came to want them just as ardently as he seemed to want them. Kissing was lovely. Being held was lovely. Being at the center of her husband’s attention, if only for a short while in the evenings, was lovely.

She took her remedy faithfully and had begun to think the herbs Maz had given her were working. She did, indeed, feel more brave. The salve on her face seemed to improve her skin, but she was sure it was Lord Ren himself who made her feel almost pretty.

“I will have this hall cleaned to my satisfaction, or I shall be forced to deal with you all,” she addressed the impudent servants late one morning, after the breakfast had been cleared.

“You?” a pert little wench with a sour look on her face asked.

“Aye,” Rey said, jaw clenched as she grasped the hilt of her sword. She drew it slightly from its sheath and the servants jumped to their feet. She nodded with a renewed confidence. She raised her voice and said, “The rushes will be changed today, and twice a sennight, henceforth. Should I find you slacking, you will be assigned to cesspit duties.”

The servants rushed off with all haste, grabbing the tools they needed to complete the work. Rey was taken aback by the sudden zeal for productivity in their labors. She patted her sword with a satisfied little nod.

She turned to leave the kitchens but saw Sir Vicrul’s head disappear from the doorway. She frowned, wondering what he was doing there. No matter, there was work to be done. She took up a spot at the head of the great hall and oversaw the chores that needed doing. Sir Vicrul snuck up beside her as the hall became a hive of busy workers.

“My lady, you seem to have the servants well in hand,” he said gruffly. “And fairly dancing at the point of your sword.”

Rey bit her lip and peeped up at Vicrul’s face. He gave her a sly wink and she didn’t feel so bad about her show of force.

Lord Ren bellowed from the front entrance of the hall, knocking over a wench holding a bucket of dirty rushes as he burst inside. “What the bloody hell goes on in my hall?”

“Oh, my,” Rey whispered, feeling the threads of her courage unraveling.

“Give ‘im hell, my lady,” Vicrul said, nudging her shoulder.

Lord Ren, looking large and fine in his knee-length black and red tabard, rested his wide hand on the pommel of his sword as he came to join Rey and Vicrul. He propped one booted foot up on the dais while he addressed her.

“Should I have an army of stonemasons on reserve to repair the damage you intend to bring upon my humble hall?” he asked her with a gleam in his dark eyes.

“There’s no need for such dramatics. ‘Tis time the rushes were changed, is all,” she replied.

“Dramatics? I see but one chatelaine at present, and she has a sword strapped to her side as she governs her wenches,” Lord Ren said, inspecting his fingernails.

“I wouldn’t cross the Devil’s Mistress if I were you, my lord. Why, she was shouting down the rafters afore you came in. She’s a ferocious temper. That’ll be my warning to ye,” Vicrul grumbled.

Rey shot Vicrul a look.

“The Devil’s Mistress, eh?” Lord Ren looked on her as he stroked his chin. “Let us leave our lady to her cleaning, Vic. I do not wish to draw her ire nor loose that ferocious temper.”

He stepped up and took her hand and placed a kiss on it. He caressed her there with his lips for an indecently long moment. 

Rey’s face flamed. “Be gone with you.”

Lord Ren’s eyes sparkled up at her before he turned and left the hall with Sir Vicrul.

It was only a few moments later when she realized they had dubbed her with a new title. She stood a little straighter, held her chin a little higher.

Devil’s Mistress, indeed.

But in name only. She wilted a bit. How was she to even ask her husband to bed her? Aye, his touch had been doing strange things to her. His kisses had wrought an eternal change in her. She remained unsure, however strangely wonderful he made her feel, that she was ready for him to use his planting tool where he’d put his hand. Perhaps she should allow a few more days for her courage to grow. Maz’s small pouch of herbs was emptying fast. As soon as she could steal away, she decided to pay another visit to her friends in the hut beyond the tanner’s shop.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Kylo often trained at night when he had trouble sleeping. Back when his eyes could not see his target, he still went into his tower chamber and practiced his swordsmanship. He could be alone there and no one was able to see him fail when he first picked up a sword after he’d been blinded.

The day’s work was indeed tiresome, but at night, with his lovely wife nestled on him or beside him, he needed to be given further occupation to distract his mind from her intoxicating allure. Aye, he would patiently wait for her to come to him and to ask him to consummate their marriage, but in the time being, he needed to wear himself out.

The day would come when he would face off with her stepfather. Plutt would pay for the years of damage he’d wrought on Rey under his heavy hand. Kylo would see to it.

So he practiced. He practiced with nothing but his God, himself, his art, and his sword. It would come down to these, because Lord Plutt was no novice, easily dispatched. Only skill would be Kylo’s survival in combat against that tyrannical bastard.

He lunged and thrusted and worked up quite a sweat. He was caught up in his practiced movements and he did not notice someone else slip into the chamber.

“You’re marvelously skilled,” Rey said from beside the doorway.

Startled, Kylo whirled and blew out a surprised breath. “Saints, Rey!”

The chit had the gall to smile at his discomfiture. “Did I scare you?” she asked innocently.

He huffed. “What are you doing out of bed?” He saw that she had wrapped herself in his own dressing gown. It swallowed her whole and drug the floor.

“I wished to see for myself the truth of what you were doing up here so late at night. Do you know the stories I’ve been told about you?”

“Stories?” he chuckled.

“Aye. You come up here to practice your dark arts. Dark magic.”

“Ah,” he nodded knowingly, coming to stand in front of her. “I suppose you heard that I transform into a wolf. Or that I despoil maidens thrice daily. That I eat children. Believed such rumors, did you?”

He grinned at her wide-eyed expression. Kylo crowded her against the wall and caged her there with his arms as he leaned against it. “Where do you think those rumors originated? Hmm?”

Rey let out a little gasp. “What wicked lies to tell!”

“They served my reputation well enough. Now, get thee to bed before I go about hunting for a maiden ripe for despoiling,” he finished with a growl. Aye, he was only waiting for the word of her readiness. But the look in her eye told him that it would not happen this night. He contented himself with dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose. He chuckled as her eyes went a little crossed.

She also seemed to stare hungrily at his naked chest as he pulled back from her. Perhaps that was only wishful thinking on his part.

“Shall I allow the maiden a kiss before she goes?” he teased.

Rey’s mouth fell open and she swallowed hard. But she firmed her resolve before his very eyes and stepped up to him. She grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him down.

“Aye. The Devil’s Mistress shall have her kiss,” Rey said before she sealed her lips to his.

Kylo smiled against her mouth, more than happy to oblige, resigning himself to more time spent training to distract his lustful thoughts.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few of you... I'll not name names... are reading some hardcore mean-ass Kylo/Ben stories. I know! I'm a nosey h00r. I went and looked at your bookmarks. And I read a few passages of 2 different stories with some downright flippin' scary-mean Kylos. Believe me, those stories make my little Devil of Exegol look like a marshmallow. Just making sure you know that? Yes? No? Okay, then. Heh.
> 
> P.S. I don't care what you read or how you read or any of that. **I'm glad you're here.**  
>  Lord Asscabbage is a badass, but he's not, you know, THAT mean. Comment below if you're reading some scary Kylo/Ben fic!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfic is inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. I've put my own spin on things, and I have surely sullied it with all the smut that's about to go down. Next chapter.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

“My lord, there is a messenger bearing Lord Plutt’s colors being escorted through the bailey.”

Kylo had been training with Hux on the lad’s swordsmanship. He took pride in the boy’s skill, for it was Kylo’s teaching that had brought him on. Once Hux grew into himself, he’d be a formidable swordsman.

“Bring Vicrul to me,” he told Hux, and dispatched his young charge with a swat to his rump with the flat of his blade.

Plutt, the damned whoreson! Kylo kept his sword in hand as his guard and the Knights of Ren gathered round him. Vicrul finally came to his side.

“Go and find Lady Rey. Keep her occupied while I see to this messenger. I’ll not have her upset by that bastard,” he told Vicrul.

Sir Vicrul gave him a grim nod and stalked off toward the keep.

Flanked by his finest warriors and his loyal squire, all dressed in mail and black gambesons, all wielding swords or other weapons of battle, Kylo watched stoically as Plutt’s messenger was escorted by two of his guardsmen into the lists. He remembered the day of his wedding feast, how Plutt knew before he’d been tossed out of the fortress that Kylo was blind. It would be safe to venture that Plutt still believed him blind. Kylo kept that thought in mind.

Kylo stared at Plutt’s fellow to get the measure of him. Dusty, threadbare and arrogant, by the tilt of his stubborn chin. Kylo spit into the grass in front of him before saying to the messenger, “Speak.”

The men at Kylo’s sides all took half a step forward and drew their swords in unison. The sounds of mail and metal shifted in synchronization as one unit preparing for the first onslaught of battle. The corner of Kylo’s lip cocked up at their dramatics.

The messenger lost that stubborn tilt to his chin and swallowed hard. “My lord, I bid you good day from Lord Plutt of Niima. He has sent me to inform you that he will arrive in a fortnight to visit his beloved daughter.”

Beloved daughter? Kylo frowned fiercely. What utter rot and lies. He clenched his jaw and controlled his voice as he said, “Tell Lord Plutt his loving concern is noted, but I have not the time, at present, to show his lordship hospitality. Lady Rey has not the time either.” Kylo made a show of trying to sheathe his sword, deliberately missing the opening like he couldn’t see it.

“My Lord Plutt wishes me to remind you that he is your father under the law.”

That ugly, goat-swiving, festering, swine-smelling, tub of guts whoreson. Kylo fixed a look upon his countenance that would set grown men to shaking in their boots.

“You inform Lord Plutt that he shall lose his life if he steps foot in Exegol. By my hand.”

The messenger dared step forward. “Rumors have come to us that you have tortured the girl.”

Kylo stepped forward with menace. His men fell in step beside him, the heavy ring of their mail and weapons ominous. “I’ll torture you if you open your mouth once more. Get thee back to Niima with this message for your lord: He shall never see his daughter again. Should he ask why, tell him I am well versed with the treatment Lady Rey received at his hands. She is no longer any kin to the house of Plutt. If Plutt desires to see just how efficiently I can rid his presence from the provinces, he need only defy my word.

“Guards, see this hedge-born plague boil outside the gates, and from this day forth, deny any bearing Plutt’s colors entrance inside these walls.”

The Knights of Ren let out a rumbling war cry and rattled their weapons as the messenger was dragged through the bailey between the guardsmen.

He would not allow Plutt to terrorize his wife ever again. He knew he must do something soon about Plutt. It was obvious that the blighted whoreson planned to make himself a nuisance. The man probably had a lust for Kylo’s gold. He knew there was no affection between Plutt and Rey.

Kylo frowned to himself as his men went back to their training maneuvers. ‘Twas a pity he couldn’t have met his lady when they were younger. But he knew he would have been too stupid to see her for the treasure she was. It had taken the likes of Phasma of Abraxas to turn his vain head. God’s bones! He would have rather Rey been his first and only wife. He could have bound her to him years ago and already had a passel of little devils with black hair and green eyes terrorizing his keep.

He sniffed, and turned back to his work, knowing he could not change the past. He could only have a hand in how he dealt with his future. And Rey was his future. He looked forward to what that future would hold, and to holding her forevermore.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

A heavy hand landed on Rey’s shoulder. She startled and pulled away, only to find that Sir Vicrul had snuck up on her.

“What are you doing?” she grumbled.

“I’ll ask the same of you, my lady. Sneaking off without guard. Have a care for your safety.”

Rey huffed and opened her cloak to reveal the sword at her belt. “I am not defenseless,” she said.

“Where do you go?” he asked with suspicion.

“Where I go is my business. Good day to you, Sir Vicrul.” She started back on the path leading to the gate.

He fell into step near her side. “You go to that witch in the village.”

Rey frowned. “Maz is no witch. She is a healer. I think. And why do you seem so intent on pestering me? I do not follow you around as if you were my nursemaid!”

Vicrul snorted. “I keep watch over all that is dear to Lord Ren.” He remained close as she passed through the postern gate. “And I don’t like that you’re going to that healer again. There’s no telling what manner of rot she’ll foist off on you this time.”

“Rot?” Rey’s voice rose indignantly. “Those herbs served me well. Perhaps I can ask for another pot of salve on your behalf.”

He harrumphed but continued at her side, heavy of foot and lumbering like a great ox.

Rey looked askance at Vicrul. The man seemed changed to her eyes since she’d first met him at her stepfather’s keep. Though he was not very handsome, he did have appeal. He’d recently shorn down the hair along the sides of his head, leaving only a bar of thick blond hair over the top of his skull that faded down the back. His dark beard remained, not long, but trimmed becomingly. He was heavily muscled and as tall as Lord Ren. She believed he was a few years younger than Lord Ren. His stormy gray eyes always seemed to be overshadowed by his heavy brow, drawn down in an ever-present scowl. But she knew his teeth to be white and even, she’d seen his smile on the rare occasion. The more one looked on the man, the more one could see there was much of interest to cause the eyes to linger. Not a bad face at all upon closer inspection.

Vicrul could be jovial; he liked to jest and to laugh, though he would most likely deny it should he be accused of such frivolous notions.

Once they made it down to the crowded market, Sir Vicrul stepped even closer. “Take my arm, my lady. I do not wish to lose you in this crush.”

Rey latched onto his padded arm happily. The crowd was, indeed, pressing against them on all sides. Vicrul shoved several unsavory types out of their way. He stood taller than the people around them and nearly twice as wide at the shoulders.

Rey was happy to put a little distance between them once they were through the busy market square. Sir Vicrul still retained his off-putting stench.

They hurried past the tanner’s shop and she eagerly knocked upon the door of the hut where she knew Maz and Rose to be living and working.

There was much rushing about on the inside, urgent whispering and other shuffling and scraping noises. Rey leaned her ear to the wood and frowned, trying to discern what was happening within. She knocked again when she was not received.

The door was finally cracked open, letting out a waft of lavender scented air, and Maz’s beady eye blinked up at her.

“Ah, my lady.” Maz turned her head back into the hut before pushing the door wide. “Aye, do come in. This is a good time for a visit.”

The hut was darkened, the windows covered, the fire low, and but one candle was lit. Rose was swiftly packing something away into a cupboard and she rushed to raise the curtains. Odd behavior, Rey noted.

“Have we arrived at a bad time?” Rey asked.

“We?” It took a moment before Maz’s gaze caught on the hulking presence behind her. “Oh! I see you have brought a man!” Maz tittered. “And what a man!”

Rey bit her lip against a smile and looked back at Vicrul to see him eyeballing the both of them like they’d grown extra limbs. “Aye. Maz, this is Sir Vicrul, my friend, and not at all to be confused with a nursemaid.”

“Don’t think I won’t turn you over my knee for such insult,” he growled testily. “Be about your business so we may be gone soon. Your lord will wonder where you are.”

Both Rose and Maz giggled.

“Come,” Maz waved them in. “Come in and we shall have a cup of mead.”

“Mead?” Vicrul barked. He shoved Rey through the door with all haste. She yelped when he plopped her down on a bench. “Let it be known that Sir Vicrul never turns away a mug of mead when ‘tis offered him,” he said.

They all soon had a mug in their hands of the honeyed brew. Rey quite liked it; it was similar to wine, sweet, but with a distinct flavor. After one sip, she knew why it was a favorite of Vicrul’s.

“Tell me of your progress,” Maz began. “That is what I am owed.” Maz sipped her own mead. Rose continued her work at the table in the middle of the room. Vicrul sipped sloppily of his mead by Rey’s side.

“Much improved,” Rey said with a little smile. She squared her shoulders and nodded. “My courage has grown. And that salve has helped my skin. I thank thee for it.”

“Aye, His Lordship talks of your beauty and boldness at every turn.”

All the ladies in the hut stilled and turned eyes on Sir Vicrul. He downed the very last of the contents of his mug and belched. Dropping his eyes back to level, he noticed everyone was looking at him.

“What?” he groused.

“Lord Ren speaks of me?” Rey breathed.

“Aye. Sings your praises like a bird sings to the morning.” Vicrul turned up his mug to drain the last drop onto his tongue.

Rey found that difficult to believe, but she smiled all the same. She handed her full mug to Sir Vicrul. He accepted it with a delighted, “Ah!”

“Those herbs and salve have worked on you as well, Sir Vicrul. You grow more handsome everyday,” Rey said as she watched him drown in the last of her mead, and then splutter some of it down his bearded chin.

Rey turned to Maz. “Think you he is in need of his own beauty salve?”

Maz waved her hand and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a word, Rose came over and dropped a block of something firm into Sir Vicrul’s hand.

“‘Tis all he has need of,” Rose said softly.

“What be this?” Vicrul spat.

“Soap.”

“Oh, bollocks,” he fussed.

Rey covered her mouth to hide her laughter. Vicrul noticed. Noticed all of them sniggering. He stood and said, “Let us be gone, now. You’ve surely no more business here, my lady.”

“Nay, I have other business.” Rey turned her attention to Maz once more. “I do not know how to go about asking my husband to bed me—”

“God’s bloody bones!” Vicrul hollered. “Spare my ears. She obviously needs no more of them courage potions!” He stomped out, leaving them in peace.

“My, oh, my,” Rose and Maz said at the exact same moment. Rose picked up the mugs and the bar of soap Vicrul dropped on his departure.

“He’s quite virile. Does he have a woman?” Rose asked.

Rey shrugged. “I don’t believe he does. He’s never said.”

“Hm. He’d clean up a treat with a bath.”

“Rose, enough,” Maz admonished. “What is this about bedding?” she addressed Rey.

“Only that I don’t know how to go about asking him to do it. I’m sure I’m in need of a little more courage to be able to say the words.”

“My lady, the woman I see before me is much changed from the girl who came to my doorstep a sennight ago. The courage is there within you, and it blossoms afresh each day. Methinks ‘tis something else you are in need of,” Maz said, leaning back in near the hearth.

“Advice, then?” Rey prompted.

Both of the women tittered behind their hands. “What say you, Rose? How is our lady to ask her husband to bed her?”

Rose pulled down a block of more soap and sliced it with a wire. She handed it to Rey. Rey sniffed it and sighed at the wondrous scent.

“Might I suggest a bath before bed? And when my lady has dried herself, she neglects to dress in her nightgown, and your lord will know precisely what he should do.” They both chuckled softly again.

Rey didn’t particularly find it funny, but the laughter did cut the embarrassment. Stand before Lord Ren naked? Well, she’d done it before, perhaps she could do it once more.

Rose wrapped up the soap she intended for Sir Vicrul to take. “Tell that big man that he should come see us again soon.” Rose blushed and smiled before she turned away to her work once more.

Rey’s eyebrows shot high on her forehead. Well. Someone fancied Sir Vicrul. She stored that knowledge away for later.

Maz was still chuckling when Rey focused her attention on the small woman. “You see? ‘Tis done simply. It is an act of pleasure between two willing participants. Go, and trust in your own boldness and the boldness of your Lord. Make known to him what it is you want. You shan’t be disappointed. Now, when your time comes to birth your child, I can help. That is where my expertise lies.”

Maz wrapped up her own soap and Rey stored it in a pouch on her belt. She bid farewell to her friends and found Sir Vicrul blocking her exit. The door swatted against his backside when she attempted to open it.

“You’re done here? Good. Let us depart. I’ve worn this battle gear for longer than necessary. It chafes.”

Rey quashed a smile at Vicrul’s discomfort. He was decked out in chainmail and a padded gambeson. “Did you come direct from the lists? How was it you saw me on my way to the village?” she asked.

Vicrul grumbled. “‘Twas a feeling. I knew you’d find your way back down to that hut soon enough.”

Rey put the wrapped parcel from Rose into his hand. “I believe our friend Rose would like to see you again. After you’ve used that,” Rey said.

Vicrul sniffed the wrapping on the soap and snorted.

“She’s lovely,” Rey said. Now that she knew what it was like to have someone to hug and kiss and enjoy, she believed everyone should have the same. Why not Vicrul and why not with Rose?

“I wouldn’t,” Vicrul said. “I cannot. I am… betrothed to another.”

“Oh. I did not know. I am sorry I said anything.”

Vicrul’s mail jangled as he shrugged. “I have been needed here so I haven’t sent for her.”

“Who is she?” Rey asked.

Vicrul cut her with irate eyes and seemed reluctant to talk about his betrothed. “She is the youngest daughter of a lord. I will see to my duty when I see fit!” he finished with a growl.

Rey did not know what she had said to cause him to become so upset. Perhaps he did not wish to be betrothed to this woman. She decided to spare his feelings and say no more on the subject.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Rey bathed with the wonderful soap Rose had given her. As she was drying off, she contemplated getting into bed without her shift. But her insecurities overwhelmed her bravery. She put on a nightgown and a dressing gown and wrapped up in a fur by the fire.

She was disappointed in herself.

She smiled when Lord Ren came to his chamber and began his washing. When he was done, he joined her inside the fur, putting his arms around her. His long nose fell to her neck, and he sniffed at her.

“My lady, what is that delicious smell?” he rumbled under her jaw. His facial hair tickled her.

Rey chuckled softly and nuzzled her face next to his. “Only soap,” she said.

He put his arms fully around her and pulled her close. His mouth opened on her neck and she felt his tongue slide down. She shivered at the heat of his touch. His mouth latched. He sucked her skin. She held onto the fur that covered them, and his hands blazed tantalizing trails up and down her sides. Rey could not breathe normally.

“You wear too many clothes,” he murmured at the base of her throat. His fingers splayed the opening of her dressing gown. “I wish to kiss you in the covered places.”

“Where would you kiss?”

He lifted his lips from her neck to look her in the eye. The firelight glowed warm around them. His eyes crinkled at the corners while his hand slid from her neck to her breast. The nipple pebbled at his slight pressure.

“Here is a good place to start,” he said.

He moved to the other side. “I wouldn’t want to leave this one without attention.”

Rey remembered the serving wench in the hallway with her breasts exposed. She began to understand why the woman let the man touch them so. It felt wondrously thrilling. Rey even found herself arching into Lord Ren’s touch. He wanted to put his mouth there?

Rey reached for the tie on her dressing gown. Pulled it loose. “Aye,” she panted. “Kiss me there.”

Lord Ren groaned and hastily stripped her dressing gown from her shoulders. He groped at her shift to pull it downward, but he ripped it down the middle when it wouldn’t do his bidding. Rey gasped and clutched his wrist when he used his hands to spread the thin material apart.

“You tore it.”

His grin was unrepentant. “You have no further need of it, for I would keep you naked for the remainder of our lives.” His light brown eyes fastened upon her nakedness, all his focus rendered him silent and serious.

She was naked to the waist. She trembled with anticipation and a small amount of fear. Perhaps it wasn’t fear. Perhaps it was some other emotion that made her insides jump.

“By the saints,” he whispered reverently. He slowly raised his hand and cupped one breast gently. She was small in his large hand. He shifted them until she straddled his lap, he adjusted the fur so that it covered her back. He had the fire to his back. “I’m going to put my mouth on this little, pink bud. Tell me if it pleases you.”

Rey’s spirit nearly left her body when Lord Ren opened his mouth and rasped his hot, wet tongue over her nipple. He closed his lips around her. Drew her in. Gentle sucking, more tongue. She whimpered and held on to his head. Crushed his hair in her fists.

He released her from his mouth and glanced up at her. “Does it please my lady?” he asked.

“Aye,” she breathed. She felt heavy and hot and like she’d drunk too much wine.

He pulled her tight against him and kissed her lips. He drank and nibbled.

Sense returned to her slightly when she wondered if he wanted to be kissed on his chest. Her hands traveled from his hair to his shoulders to his front. Up the contours of his chest. She stopped her hands when her palms came to rest on his nipples. They continued to kiss, and his nipples tickled her palms. She rubbed them around until her thumbs flicked over the dark nubs.

His sharp intake of breath and deep grunts let her know he liked her touch.

“Kiss me there, Rey,” he whispered against her lips.

Her tentative kisses away from his mouth grew slightly bolder on his neck. She sucked on his skin like he’d done on hers. She had to scoot her hips away to get her mouth lower. She dropped kisses down the middle of his chest and had to decide which nipple to go for first. He leaned back on one arm and brought his other to the back of her head. Her lips latched to his left nipple. She nibbled and sucked and enjoyed the way his body bucked beneath her. The desperate sounds he made. She could feel the readiness of his tool at her thighs.

If she asked, he could bed her now. Should she ask? Was she truly ready? She felt more ready than she ever had before. Perhaps it was time. 

She pulled away and mustered her bravery and looked into his darkened eyes. “Kylo? Will you take me to bed now?”

⁜ ⸎ ⁜


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfic is inspired by a sweet little novel written by Lynn Kurland titled THIS IS ALL I ASK. I've put my own spin on things. I've also added smut.
> 
> Here's a whole chapter of smut for you.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

For one breathless moment, Kylo forgot his own name.

There was only Rey’s eyes and Rey’s skin and Rey’s nipples and Rey’s lips.

He remembered his own name only when she gave it back to him. She asked so sweetly for him to take her to bed.

His wife, so kindly and gentle, so pure in heart and innocent. She was shining bright and white against the blackness of his own soul. His soul, he’d come to find out, was not black because of evil, but because it was bruised. He’d been battered and broken and left for dead.

All that had been changing. This darling girl, who had been just as battered by life, had touched his soul and given him back something good and pure to cling to. Something to work hard for. Something to protect with his very life. She softened his hard edges.

He pulled her close and shoved his face into her hair. Bloody hell, he was as nervous as a lad who’d never been with a woman. It had been a couple years since he’d been with anyone. He had no desire to think of his first wife while he held Rey in his arms. But the scars of those insecurities and doubts Phasma left behind from their disastrous marriage still pained him. They weren’t physical marks like the ones on Rey’s back, but they laced across his soul, ugly and ragged, easily ripped open at the slightest pressure.

Could he please her? Would he be enough for her? Would Rey dispose of him as easily as Phasma had?

“Do you truly want me, Rey?” he breathed. She’d begun to tremble again.

She nodded on his neck. “I… I know not what to do.”

He hugged her tighter, commiserating with her lack of confidence and knowledge. Aye, he knew the mechanics of coupling all too well, but Phasma had declared him an oafish lover the last time he’d gone to her bed. It was a sting that had yet to ease.

He would be different for Rey. He hoped he would be different for Rey.

“I know what to do, love. Do you trust me?”

She shook harder and nodded.

“Then why do you tremble so?”

“I tremble for the wanting of you.”

Kylo panted. It was time. _Merciful God, let him not be an oaf._

He stood with her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He sat her on the edge and slipped the torn shift from her legs. He stared down at her naked form.

“Rey, I will never tire of seeing you like this.” He touched both her shoulders and trailed his fingers down her arms. He lifted her hands and brought them to his hips. “Help me take off these braies, love.”

She loosened the stays with shaking hands and wide eyes. When he finally dropped the garment and stood before her, erect and weeping, she took her turn staring. He twitched under her gaze. It was difficult to tell if looking on him fascinated her or caused her further fear.

Kylo caressed the side of her face with his knuckles. “Do you still want me, lass?”

She swallowed, unable to tear her eyes from his cock. “Show me how it is done.”

He sunk to his knees on the fur beside the bed. “I will. Soon enough. Let me prepare the way. I would like to try to please you first.” He slid her bottom to the edge of the mattress and kissed the inside of her thigh, pushing her legs apart with his shoulders. She stayed upright, watching closely. He smiled up at her and kissed her belly.

“Don’t be afraid, love.”

His hands slid from her calves to her thighs, all the way up to the patch of dark hair that guarded her slit. He framed it with his large hands, letting her get used to his touch. He silently begged himself to go slowly and gently.

Her breathing hitched when he spread her apart with his thumbs. How he wished he had more hands to comfort her!

She was pink and soft and Kylo ached to taste her. She smelled so wondrously fine from her bath, he was still being driven mad by her scent. But with one hot, hungry swipe of his tongue, she became his favorite flavored dish.

He groaned and pressed his face deeper. His thumbs played at the lips of her, his tongue dipped inside her, the first intrusion. Rey moved against him, making noises he’d never heard from her before. Her hands fairly ripped at his hair. He used his tongue to open her slightly, making sure she was wet enough.

He dropped his left hand down and moved his mouth up, finding that nub at the apex of her sex. He kissed it and lavished it with attention as he worked a thick finger inside of her. Slowly. Softly. Rey’s hips bucked against his mouth. Her thighs squeezed him. She had fallen back on the bed. Kylo put his free hand on her belly and caressed her there. As he nudged inside her slick tightness with his finger and suckled that confounding nub, he reached up to fondle her tits, because he loved them, too.

Her hand clamped on his wrist and she pulled, using that leverage to press herself harder against the ministrations of his mouth.

It was difficult to pull his lips from her flesh, but he raised his head to see if she was faring well.

“Rey? How does that feel?” he asked as he tenderly massaged inside of her with the pad of his finger.

When she did not answer, he gave her another lazy lick.

“I know not! I’ve never… Never felt anything like it.” She gasped and moaned when he pushed slightly deeper. He rewarded her with more gentle swipes of his tongue.

If he could make her mad with passion, then when it came time to take her, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt. She was small. His cock would feel quite different inside her as opposed to his finger. He was almost trembling with the effort of controlling himself. He was likely to spill his seed upon the floor before he could breach her.

Easing a second finger inside took a bit more patient work and more of her silky wetness. She was already beginning to clench around him. He slipped out of her and stood. He took himself in hand and moistened his cock between her folds, dipping the head in at the wettest part of her. His gut clenched, feeling in awe of her and what they were about to do together. He prayed that she wouldn’t think him an inept lover.

He was also afraid that he would hurt her and she would never wish to be with him thusly in future.

Gripping under her thighs, he put them around his waist and said, “Hold on to me, love.”

Once she tightened her legs, he leaned down and kissed her. Kissed her forehead, her lips, her chin, her chest. Sucked on a nipple for good measure. He positioned the head of his cock at her opening and pushed. He watched her closely, seeing her flinch and feeling her tighten at his invasion.

He took one of her hands and put a kiss on the palm. “Stay with me, Rey, I’m here. I’ll go slow.”

Going slow was so difficult. Instead of thrusting like he wished to do, he bumped and retreated. Farther with each intense movement. Until he was as far as he could go. Until she was full up with him. She was already fluttering around him and it was maddening. He pulled partway out and thrust in. Again. And again. He gasped and hollered Rey’s name as the sudden pleasure took hold of him. He shuddered and slumped over her, his face landing in her silky hair.

“Rey, Rey, Rey,” he chanted as the final waves undulated from his bollocks though his cock.

When the pleasure ripples at last let loose of him, he groaned and shoved his face into the crook of her shoulder and neck. He rubbed his lips on her skin there, and soon found the strength to push himself upright. He stood again and slipped out of her. As he did so, their fluids dribbled from her, and he could see the blood of her innocence staining himself and her skin.

Kylo swallowed thickly and feared that he’d used her too hard. That he’d lost himself so deeply in her he’d left her behind and unfulfilled.

Rey stared up at him in a daze, shivering. His heart constricted and he pulled her into his arms.

“Oh, my sweet girl, forgive me.” He tucked the blankets around them and cradled her head on his chest. “Did I hurt you?”

The pads of her fingers made tiny circles on his upper chest. “Nay,” she breathed.

“But I did not bring you pleasure.”

Her breath stuttered in her chest. “It… wasn’t completely unpleasant.”

He rolled so that she was beneath him, and propped up on his elbows so he could look her in the eye. “Did I frighten you?”

She frowned and shook her head. He caressed her cheeks with his thumbs.

“I thought there would be something more to it? I’m unsure, but it seemed like there was going to be more.”

“If I did not bring you to the peak of pleasure, then, yes, love, there’s more.”

“I see.”

Kylo chuckled. “Do you? Perhaps you will.”

Rey smiled up at him and it filled his soul with blinding light.

“Why do you smile, love?”

“You finally made me yours.”

He dropped his face down and kissed her with all the passion that filled his heart. He tried to convey in that kiss all he could not put into words. Aye, she was his. Now, always, and forever.

Her arms slowly circled his waist and he remembered he’d left a mess between them; he’d left her lying in her own blood. He pulled away gently and kissed her nose.

“I shall be but a moment,” he said, easing out of the bed. The water in the wash basin was cold, but he dampened a washrag and cleaned himself before going back to the bed with a rinsed rag. He uncovered Rey, indulgently staring at her naked beauty in the golden light the fire allowed in that part of his chamber. He gripped her knee and slid her to the edge of the bed once more.

“Will you love me again now?” she asked quietly, dark eyes wide upon him.

His short chuckle was soft and his smile was instant. “If you wish, but only after you’ve rested.” He parted her legs and warned her that the rag was cold.

His hands were gentle as he cleaned her, and perhaps they lingered longer than necessary. He loved touching her. Could smell her on him still. He was getting frothed only thinking about tasting her again.

When he discarded the rag, he climbed into bed and cradled her body next to his under the blankets. The heat of her skin sinking into his lulled him, but he could not close his eyes. His hands roamed her scarred back and her thighs, combed through her hair. He dropped slow, soft kisses on her neck and shoulder.

She tangled her legs with his and pressed her forehead to his chest. Her knuckles made slow treks all the way from his chest down his belly. He tensed and hardened when that caress passed close to his cock. He tried to put it from his mind, but he began to throb with need.

Was it too soon to take her once more?

Her fingertips ventured even lower, grazing the side of his cock. His breath hitched and he groaned her name. She moved to kiss him. To take him in hand. He swelled into hardness and his spirit swelled within him. His brave girl. His sweet wife. Lady Rey, Conqueror of the Devil of Exegol.

“Come,” he said when he lifted his head. “I want to take you by the fire. To see you better.”

He stood and helped her rise, both naked and unafraid. Both trembling for the pleasures to come.

He put peat and another log on the fire and spread Rey out on the thick fur beside the hearth. His hands studied every inch of her. He straddled her and kissed her, his lips traveling down her neck. He kissed her breasts. Their small roundness called out to his mouth and tongue. When he left them to go lower, her pink nipples were shining with his kisses in the firelight.

Sitting back he cupped her narrow waist and caressed the gentle flare of her hips. He nosed the dark muff of curly hair on her tiny mound. As he hovered between her legs, he sat back and rested his cock on her lower belly. She pressed her hand on top of the head of it, measuring its length from her navel to her mound.

“However did you put this inside me?” Her fingertips skimmed over their connection.

“We fit well together, Rey. Did you like it when I put it inside you?” He shifted down, letting his length slide through her folds. He coaxed her thigh up to grip behind his back. Then he touched her with light caresses at her sensitive nub. She shook when he rubbed her there.

“I need for you to try again before I can say whether I like it or not.”

He swallowed and glanced up. She was a golden beauty laid out like a feast for his eyes and hands and mouth and cock. Her cheeks had pinked up to a rosy hue. Her lips open and glistening. Nipples erect and high and swaying with her hurried breaths. His heart was nigh to bursting with deep and heavy emotion.

Kylo focused intently on bringing her to fulfillment. Slow touches turned her slick on the inside, made her hips seek for more of what he could give her. He spread his knees to keep her thighs open wide, and watched as he fed his cock into her tight body. His breathing turned unsteady seeing his length glistening with her lush slickness. He reveled in her heat and her taut grip as he plundered her in slow, slow advancements. His bollocks weighed heavy as he finally reached the end of her, deep inside. He rested there, stroking her skin, thumb teasing around her nub.

The urge to thrust took over and he braced himself high above her. He was unable to relinquish his gaze from his cock as it sank into her, conquering her, watching it bulge from within and bump up her belly with each ardent thrust.

Rey moaned aloud and he shifted focus to watch her face; mouth open, head thrown back, eyes closed. Her body bowed up underneath him, arching like an arrow had been nocked and ready to be loosed from the longbow. He held himself up with one hand and brought the other to her throat, thumb swiping her chin and lower lip. He groaned again when he pulled her bottom lip down and felt that silky wetness of her tongue reach out and taste him.

Growing more heated and more intense, his thrusts picked up pace. He took his wet thumb and nudged it against the nub at her apex, desperate to bring her pleasure. She bore down on him, beginning to ride his thrusts, and he could feel the quickening inside her. Could feel her searching for that pinnacle that they would find together. His bollocks were slapping against her bottom now, desperate for release.

Rey cried out and clenched around him, and Kylo sheathed himself fully inside her with a triumphant shout. He continued to circle that nub, making her quake, making her insides roil around him until that bow was pulled so taut his volley of arrows were ready to fly.

Gasping and shaking, insides rolling, milking, crushing, Rey lifted her hips when he had to give her another thrust. Deep, as deep as he could go, he rutted his spend, hot and violent, calling her name, emptying his heavy bollocks. He filled her up with everything, giving and giving, mourning that he hadn’t more to give her.

He was reluctant to pull out. Reluctant to move. Rey laid limp beneath him, glowing with a sheen of sweat and panting. Watching her tits bounce made his cock twitch deep within.

Rey was so full up their fluids leaked onto the fur when he pulled his softening cock from her. He stared at her slit. Spent as he was, he wanted more. He slipped his fingers through her folds, feeling the mix of their explosive union. She trembled and tried to close her legs, but he wouldn’t let her. He watched in fascination while he fingered her slowly, leaving his stout middle finger buried in her as he laid beside her to look at her. To kiss her. He knew not why he felt the need to do it, as if he were sealing a part of himself inside her. He even rammed his knees under her legs so that her hips tilted upward. He kept his finger sunk deep within her.

He slid his other arm under her head and brought her lips closer to his. He licked at them. Honeyed and pink and irresistible.

Kylo sobered abruptly when warm drips fell to the crook of his arm. He pulled back and saw that Rey had tears running from the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, sweet Rey, please don’t cry. It pains me so to see you weep.” He kissed the tears that fell. “Did I hurt you? Please forgive me. I was sure you had found your pleasure.”

She pressed her fingertips to his lips. “Shhh.” Her green eyes glittered up at him. “You gave me no pain. Only love. And I love you for it,” she whispered. “I love you, Kylo.”

Kylo pressed her close with his trembling arm. No one had ever said those words to him. He kissed her eyes. Her cheeks. He stared deeply into those green and gold glimpses of her soul. Something larger than himself swelled inside his chest; a great rushing avalanche of feeling, of hunger and devotion.

Of protection.

Of claiming.

This was his woman.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fanfic is inspired by one of my favorite novels, This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

“Well, I see now I have created a monster since bedding you. What an insatiable wench you are,” Lord Ren growled into her neck as he held her in his lap by the fire in the great hall. “How am I ever to recover my strength if you would have me giving you pleasure all hours of the day and night?”

“My lord, ‘twas you that pulled me away from my duties,” Rey countered. She was greatly distracted by his lips upon her throat. The time spent in Lord Ren’s presence had been softened by his lingering light brown eyes on hers, or her body, and his secret closed-lip smiles. 

He had an arm tight behind her back and the other under her knees. The hand at her thigh kept teasing her with delightful touches that were hardly proper in the great hall and in the daylight hours.

“My lady wife, ruling her household with sword in hand. I daresay Cook will not blunder a meal ever again. What a fearsome creature you are. Perhaps you would like to cross swords with me?” he asked, deep voice still rumbling in her ear.

“You wish to feel the sting of my blade?”

She could feel him smile, then his teeth nipped at her. “I have heard you use that turn of phrase many a time. Where did you learn it?”

Rey’s smile faltered and her mood fell. “‘Twas something my brother taught me to say,” she whispered.

Lord Ren noticed the change in her demeanor. He turned her so that he might look upon her face, setting her higher on his lap and removed his arm under her knees. He stroked her chin gently. “You miss your brother.”

She blinked and sighed. “Aye. I miss him greatly.”

“Let me see your sword,” he said suddenly.

Rey frowned but took the blade from the scabbard at her belt. He grasped the sword in his large hand and tilted it about, causing the crystals embedded in the hilt to shine and sparkle in the ambient light.

“When Finn told me he planned to have a sword forged for his sister, I gave him a red kyber. I didn’t realize at the time he would actually use it, but there it is.” His thumb swiped over the red stone. “He loved you fiercely, lass. You were ever in his thoughts and he never failed to convey the high esteem in which he held you.”

Rey crushed her lips together and bit down on them. She had no wish to shed tears, but her husband’s words touched her deeply. She sniffed and caressed the crystal his thumb had indicated.

“I have carried a piece of you all this time?” she asked softly.

Lord Ren grunted, but said nothing as he stared down into her eyes. And, oh, that stare did nothing but weaken her knees and turn her insides to water. His focus narrowed upon her lips and he dipped his head down to take them.

Rey closed her eyes and slipped her arm around his neck when his tongue brazenly stroked her between her lips. Hot satin licks that inundated her with a deluge of his delicious peaty taste. She squirmed in his lap to get closer, to tangle her tongue with his.

They had sunk deep into each other when Sir Vicrul stomped up and grumbled, “By the bloody saints. The pair of ye’ve been latched together for over a month, hiding away in the dark corners of the keep. I’ve not got a decent hour's worth of work from either of ye.”

Rey and Lord Ren broke apart with an audible snap in the middle of Sir Vicrul’s tirade, Lord Ren did not move his eyes from hers.

“Have a care, Vic, or my lady will draw her sword on you as well.”

“Aye, I saw her have a go with Cook. What a tongue-lashing! Perhaps we’ll taste something more palatable at table this eve. Come, Lord Ren, we’ve things to do that will keep food in your larder and wood in the hearth.” He bowed to them. “My lady.” Sir Vicrul moved from their line of sight.

“And now I must leave you. Duty calls.” Lord Ren quickly kissed her lips once more and helped her to stand.

“How long will you be, my lord?” she asked, glancing up at him with an unhappy expression.

He smiled and bowed as he presented her sword to her once more. “Several hours, no doubt.”

Rey made no move to take her sword from his hands. She caught him about the neck, keeping them nose to nose. She nipped at his top lip. “How long?” she asked, thinking about being alone in their bedchamber.

Their eyes met and they both remembered.

_Lord Ren sat in his chair in front of the hearth, wrapped up in his great fur. Rey finished her bath and stood before him in only a thin shift. Those eyes of his, so deep and soulful, hooded and watchful, took stock of her in a slow heated glance. Rey’s cheeks reddened, her nipples hardened and there was a rush of warmth straight down to her middle. She licked her lips when he whisked the fur from his lap, revealing his proudly rigid manhood, twitching subtly as he invited her to take him inside her. With the fire at her back, she found her pleasure astride his lap while he urged her on with his hands cupping the cheeks of her backside and his mouth on her breasts._

“Uhh… I… I could be done in two hours, perhaps.”

She dragged her lips up his jaw to his earlobe where she bit down gently. “Too long.”

Another memory fanned the flames of her passion.

_Lord Ren rolled her to her belly on top of the fur, raising her hips so that her bottom was in the air. She squirmed and tried to turn over again. She did not like that he could see her scars so easily in this position. But he held her firm, bringing his erection to her slit in this new way. Rey froze and panted._

_“Please,” she begged with a breathless plea. “I’ve no wish for you to see my back so closely.”_

_His lips and landed on her skin as he traced the scars with his tongue. His hands were busy between her breasts and the sensitive nubbin above her sex. He pushed the head of his member inside her and she gasped, arching her back at this new pleasure._

_“Love, do not hide any part of yourself from me.” He continued to trace the ugly marks on her back. “These maps upon your skin have led me to you.”_

_Rey melted around the deep thrusts he gave her, coming apart in pieces, only to be put back together by her husband’s love._

“An hour,” he breathed. “No more.”

Rey withdrew and took her sword. She smiled and gave a hasty curtsy. “Until then, my lord. Do not keep me waiting.” She left him standing by the fire and hurried to finish her own chores.

She met with Hux in Lord Ren’s chamber as he was cleaning Lord Ren’s chainmail.

“Good day, Hux.”

“Ah, my lady. Good day to you. Shall we?”

She nodded and followed him up into Lord Ren’s tower chamber. The very same chamber where she had believed the Devil of Exegol performed any number of evil atrocities. Now it was the chamber where she and Hux practiced their swordsmanship.

Rey secured her skirts in her belt and took up the wooden practice sword Hux had given her. For many stolen afternoons, he’d taught her to block and use the crossguards to her advantage. How to turn her blade when locked with another to inflict a deadly blow. How to stand to avoid such blows to herself.

The dear boy had offered to teach her after she’d asked him how to best care for her own blade. An offer she had readily accepted and he’d eagerly taken to teaching her what he knew. He had learned from the best. Hux had not made the training easy on her. He’d trained her in earnest as the muscles and the bones of her body could attest once a strenuous session was over.

“Very good, my lady!” Hux praised her when she blocked his wooden blade from an overhead attack. She was able twist her hands to reorient the tip of her sword and throw him off balance.

She smiled when she stepped back into a defensive stance. Her eyes caught on a dark shape by the door. Lord Ren had seated himself and had been watching them train.

“Oh,” Rey breathed, dropping from her overhead guard stance, letting the wooden sword fall by her side. The time had gotten away with her. A thread of fear gripped her and cut into her. She’d not told Lord Ren about her practice with Hux. Her stepfather forbade her to learn swordsmanship.

Would her husband be angry with her secret activities?

“My lord!” Hux eagerly greeted when he noticed her husband’s presence. “Have you seen what a fine swordsman our lady has become?”

Lord Ren’s heavy chest rose and fell with a deep breath. His dark eyes were on her and she could not decipher his mood. Rey watched him warily, knowing it was silly to be afraid.

Old hurts took a long time to mend.

“A fine job, whelp. Soon she’ll be unhorsing you at the joust.”

Hux laughed and stretched his arms over his head, the training sword barred between his hands. “She’s a fast learner, my lord. ‘Twould be too much of a blow to my pride should we allow her to try and she succeed.”

Dark eyes remained upon her. “I daresay the Devil’s Mistress would make sport of any man, if challenged.”

Rey opened her mouth to protest such an absurd statement. But Lord Ren wasn’t finished.

“I wish to challenge the lady myself. Go and see to your chores, boy. We shan’t need an audience.”

“Of course, my lord.” Hux presented the training sword to Lord Ren and looked back to Rey with wide eyes and raised eyebrows before he left the tower chamber.

Lord Ren stood and spun the wooden sword in circular arcs from his right side to his left side. Rey marveled at his show of skill.

“How long have you and my squire been training together?”

Rey swallowed, tapping the tip of her sword nervously against her leg. “Several weeks, but only when we could afford the time.”

Lord Ren sunk into a low stance, weight balanced between specifically placed legs, one hand holding up his sword. “Hux has taught you the guards? How to turn your blade? How to turn on your feet? How to move?”

“Aye,” she said shakily, automatically stepping back into a low guard.

Lord Ren advanced with a strike, slow and without his full momentum. Rey easily countered with a deflection, the memory of her training keeping her body where it should be.

He came at her again with a different type of strike. Rey was prepared for that as well.

And on it went.

Until Rey had enough and brought the tip of her sword to Lord Ren’s throat, simulating a killing blow. His eyes flared down at her with dark fire and the corner of his lips lifted.

“I am at your mercy, my lady.”

“So you are.”

“You may disarm me of my weapons, but there is another sword you should take in hand. You are the victor. Claim your spoils. I know you’ve the courage to do it.”

Rey dropped her attention. The moment she did, Lord Ren grabbed her close, crushing their bodies together. And she felt the evidence of his sword between his legs.

She looked up and his mouth came down on hers. Swords forgotten, they clattered to the floor. He gathered her up and pushed her back against the wall. She held on tight, moving her lips with is, tasting him deeply, trying to keep up with his breathless ardor. He fumbled with her skirts, yanking them free from her belt so he could reach beneath them.

Rey’s lips fell open when he touched her intimately, and his tongue took advantage. She whimpered into his mouth as his fingers caressed her and slid into her, drawing out a silky slickness that he used to coat her and touch her with unobstructed ease. She shuddered in his arms, angling her hips to better accommodate his hand.

“I need you, Rey. Desperately.” He shucked his hose down and batted at their clothing, not bothering to get them naked. The head of his member cleaved warm and heavily through her folds. Rey’s knees clutched at his hips and her head fell back when he aligned himself.

“Kylo,” she moaned, pressing down, eagerly welcoming him inside. She threaded her fingers through his hair and held on as he began to thrust. His lips nibbled hotly down her neck. His hand played under her skirts where they were connected, teasing that sensitive area that made her ache for that ultimate fulfillment.

They had coupled dozens of times, but not in this way. Rey exulted in it, the complete surrender of her body to her husband's desperate plunges. All she was able to do was cling tight and roll her hips.

He hit places inside her that made her cry out. Her ankles locked behind his back when she bore down hard, violently finding her pleasure, thrashing in his arms.

“Rey,” he grunted with each thrust. Her name. It still awed her that the name falling from the Devil of Exegol’s lips at his most vulnerable moment was her own. The fiercest man in the realm, and it was Rey of Niima’s name that he spoke at the height of passion.

He ground his hips against hers, planting himself deeply as he spilled his seed. He panted at her neck while she held him and felt the jerking pulses of his manhood. She kissed the pale patch of skin revealed by the edge of his tunic. This loving, these moments of passion, they would never grow old for her.

“I love you,” she whispered in his ear.

He burrowed deeper into her neck and deeper inside her.

They stayed like that for some time. The stones made their impression on her back, but she couldn’t mind it one bit.

“I haven’t shocked you? I’ve pleased you?” he asked.

“Shocked? Nay. Pleased, aye. You please me. Your strong arms please me. Your hands please me. The way you move inside me, pleases me.”

He huffed and pulled back to look at her. “There’s naught else about me that pleases you?”

Rey quashed a smile as she traced her husband’s nose with the tip of her finger. Down over his lips, his chin. Up again to his eyebrows. She connected the little freckles and dark marks on his face with soft touches.

“You blush very sweetly in this light, my lord.”

He made a rough scoffing noise and stood her on her feet. He backed away and reseated himself in his hose. She grabbed his hands when he was through and pulled him in for another kiss.

“Everything about you pleases me. Even your foul temper.”

He grunted and pulled her close again. “You’re happy? Happy enough with a foul old devil?”

“Aye, my lord.”

“Happy enough to be with me always?”

She frowned at that question and the unguarded look in his soft brown eyes.

“Aye, always.”

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

The next day when Lord Ren came looking for her, she was half hanging out the window of their bedchamber, looking at the sea and how the waves crashed against the cliffs of Exegol’s foundation. She wished to know it up close. There was a bit of shoreline in the distance and she would like to explore it.

“Rey!” he barked. “What are you doing? Come away from the window!”

“I’m only watching the sea.”

He grabbed her by the waist and set her down. “You were half out of that window. What if you had fallen? What if…”

“What, Kylo?” she whispered, puzzling out the expression in his eyes.

“It would kill me to lose you,” he breathed.

She pressed her fingertips to his lips and shook her head. “Nothing could kill you.”

He placed a kiss on her palm.

“Is the sea very cold?” she asked.

He paused and smiled a little. “Would you like to see it for yourself?”

Her mouth fell open with delight.

Lord Ren nodded and said, “Put on something warm and wear your boots. The wind always carries a chill down on the shore.”

Rey rushed to pull a heavy gown from her trunks. Lord Ren’s hands aided her with her laces and grew adventurous on her naked skin.

“My lord,” she admonished. “Help me to dress! This is no time for bedsport.”

“Anytime is a good time for bedsport. ‘Twas you who wouldn’t let me out of bed this morn until you were well satisfied.”

Rey bit her lip, feeling her face go hot. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Aye. Couldn’t help yourself from ravishing me again and again.” He was grinning wickedly and he was no help as she pulled her gown on. She shooed him away.

“Aye, aye. There is no deterring you from your mission. I know how you are, love. Once a thought is in your head, you’re determined to see it through.”

She nodded sharply and he bundled her up in her cloak, flopping the hood over her face. She squealed when he picked her up and carried her through the keep.

“Let’s get this done, then. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back to that bedsport.”

Very soon, Rey was riding astride a huge black destrier behind her husband. They were accompanied by several of Lord Ren’s personal guard and Chewie trotted by their side.

The path down to the shore was rocky and treacherous, but the surefooted mount picked his way carefully on the trek. Rey clung tightly to Lord Ren’s waist. Her riding skills had not improved since the last time she’d been on a horse.

When the horse did stumble, Lord Ren spoke calmly to the animal and tightened up his seat. Rey could feel all his muscles contract. He was as immovable as rock.

After long, harrowing moments, Rey lifted her eyes and all breath froze inside her. The loud roar of wind and water rolling surprised her. There was no rest to the sound. No slowing nor easing. Only constant pounding on the rocks and sand.

Lord Ren threw his right leg over the withers of his mount and landed on his feet. He held up his arms for her and Rey gifted him with a smile and a kiss when he sat her down.

“Thank you, Kylo.”

“Why do you thank me?” He frowned down at her.

“This is a beautiful gift.” She smiled and held his hand as she turned to look at the waves.

Rey breathed in the salty air and heard Lord Ren chuckling behind her as she drug him closer to the retreating waters. Chewie ran on ahead, sniffing and digging in patches he found interesting.

“Careful, my lady. The sea monsters will snatch you off the shore if you go too close to the water.”

She came to an abrupt stop with a frightened squeak. “Monsters?”

His arms came around her and his chin landed on top of her head. “Oh, aye. And right tasty you would be to them.”

“Do you jest with me?”

He gave her a little shove toward the sea and said, “Only one way to find out!”

Rey squawked and turned on her husband, who was already laughing and dancing away from her. Chewie joined him, barking at his heels.

“You beast!” she shouted, running to catch him. But he was too fast.

She knew she would have to change tactics if she wished to catch him. She stumbled on a rock and bent over to grab her ankle. While there, she picked up a slimy weed that had been washed ashore. She heard Lord Ren come stomping toward her.

“Oh, Rey, are you hurt?” he asked, bending over to inspect her feigned injury.

She smacked the sticky seaweed across his forehead and took off running. She couldn’t catch her breath for laughing. Chewie found the game to be great fun. A look back and she could see Lord Ren struggling to wipe the mess off his face.

Heavy boots and cursing soon followed her, gaining ground behind her. She squealed and laughed, holding her skirts up, enjoying their chase. She whirled and changed directions, just missing Lord Ren’s reaching hands, and dodging Chewie’s wet paws.

When he finally caught her, he spun her up into his arms and growled, “You do not fight fair, my lady.”

She giggled and planted a kiss on his lips. She attempted to wipe away the green mess she made on his face. She traced his scar, still grinning.

“How did you get such a fearsome wound?” she asked quietly.

He blinked several times and said, “Do you want to feel the water?”

She frowned at his blatant deflection. “I do not wish to disturb the creatures of the deep.”

He chuckled. “I only tease you about the monsters. We are safe enough here.”

“Perhaps in the summer we could go into the water?”

“What a brave soul you’ve become.” He squeezed her a little tighter to him and kissed her cheek.

“My lord!”

Rey and Lord Ren both turned at the shout from further up the beach. A rider had come down from the cliff path and was heading toward them at a run.

Chewie barked at the newcomer. ‘Twas Ushar, Lord Ren’s captain.

“Riders approach the gates, my lord. A large party.”

Lord Ren tensed beside her. “Who?”

“Too far to tell, as yet, my lord. But the banners bear Lord Calrissian’s colors.”

Rey knew that name.

“My horse,” Lord Ren ordered. “Come, my lady. You shall prepare your hall for a banquet tonight.”

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's everyone doing? It took me a while to get these last updates out! Tax Season. Mmmeeeh.
> 
> I'm hoping to wind this fic down in about (I'm estimating) 5 more chapters. I've got other projects I want to write!
> 
> I'm still surprised by the response this fic has gotten. I never really planned to promote it. Never expected anyone to want to read it. It was just a personal indulgence to write it.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and commenting and giving kudos and bookmarking. I've had a blast, and I hope you have too. If you can't tell by now, I don't take myself too seriously!
> 
> Follow me on Twitter, I like to interact! @TypeSomeSense


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is inspired by the lovely novel This Is All I Ask written by Lynn Kurland.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Kylo chuckled at his wife’s gentle fussing. After bellowing orders to the maids and Cook about readying rooms and planning a feast, she had urged him to their chamber before their guests arrived, washing the muck from his face and helping him to pull on a fine tunic. She carded her fingers through his hair as they stood by the great hall steps waiting for Lord Calrissian’s party to ride through to the inner bailey.

He smiled down into her green eyes, marveling still at the changes in her. Marveling how his heart swelled for her, how those unscalable walls inside him had been obliterated and rendered dust. Rey had reforged him into the doting husband of her own design.

All for the better. 

Proud he was to call her his own.

He stilled her fidgeting hands from picking at a perceived blemish on his black tunic.

“Shall I pass inspection with my old master?” he asked quietly, watching her closely.

She was overwrought, trembling slightly. “Of course,” she murmured.

He wondered at what troubled her, until the newcomers announced their arrival with a blast from a hunting horn. Rey jolted at the sound and half hid herself behind his arm.

Kylo sucked in a breath. Was she afeared to meet their guests? Aye, she’d gone quiet since their play had been interrupted on the shore.

“My lady, do your best not to scare off our honored guests with your hellish temper while they are under our roof,” he teased, bringing her hand to the crook of his arm. 

“Oh, my lord, I would never dishonor you in such a way.”

He smiled, shifting his eyes over to her. “Aye, this I know. I merely goad you for the rotten trick you played on the beach.”

Rey’s face flushed with color and he smirked. “‘Twas you who started the game,” she bit.

Leaning close, he said, “Perhaps I shall finish it when we retire to our bedchamber this eve.”

His wife huffed a soft breath. “You’re in fine form, my lord.”

“‘Tis a good day. It has been some years since I last saw Lord Calrissian. I am pleased to introduce him to the Devil’s Mistress.” And he was pleased that he could greet the man he’d come to think of as a father with his eyesight returned to him.

He crossed his arms around Rey’s front, holding her against his chest. Her little hands clasped his arms as they waited for his old master to dismount. Hux came to wait by his side, grinning like a fool. Sir Vicrul, at his right, made a curious noise.

Kylo tilted his head over to see his brother-in-law in a state. Dark blue eyes wide and wild, still as a corpse, and mouth falling open with low curses.

Vic turned to him with a panicked look. “I’ve a matter of some import to attend. I shan’t be long.” And Vic retreated into the great hall in a great hurry.

It took a moment to remember a bit of news he had forgotten completely over the last few years. Kylo looked over the people newly arrived in his bailey. He began to laugh.

Four years prior, Sir Vicrul became betrothed to Lord Calrissian’s youngest daughter, Lady Jannah of Bespin.

And she had joined her father on this visit to Exegol.

“Why do you laugh?” Rey asked.

He kissed the top of her head and set his cheek against hers. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

The man he was allowed to call Lando only after he’d won his spurs, approached. Lando was old now, but he retained that mien of command that Kylo had always admired. A man that could charm or kill or accomplish both with little effort should the need arise.

Kylo was but seven years when the late Lord Ren escorted him to Bespin. His hateful father had filled his head with tales of Lord Calrissian’s fierce brutality, Kylo was sure Lando would be a cruel and unforgiving master should he make a mistake.

Lando had stood in the great hall of Bespin, a fire in the hearth at his back, weapons of varying type and sharpness decorating the walls of his hall. To a boy’s eyes, it had appeared a torture chamber. Kylo had hidden behind his father, afeard of what the mighty Lord of Bespin would do to him.

Snoke, Kylo’s father in name alone, had clapped him hard about the ears to get him to move.

And move he did. He stood before Bespin’s lord, shaking, ready to wretch at the man’s feet. He remembered the long look up from the man’s boots to his dark eyes.

Lord Calrissian had reached out and taken his hand and brought Kylo to his side. “The boy will do well with me. I’ll take him on,” Lando had said to Snoke.

The late Lord Ren told Lando that he would need to practice harsh discipline and be free with his beatings.

Lando had squeezed Kylo’s small hand and given him a gentle smile.

Lord Calrissian never beat him and showed great kindness and patience to his young page. Kylo had loyally served his fair master with joy. 

Kylo had often wondered about the foul treatment he’d received at Snoke’s hand until his mother, Leia, had written him before she died to say that Snoke was not his sire. Kylo had told no one that bit of news and was curious if Lord Ren had known the truth of his mother’s infidelity with a pirate named Han Solo. Their marriage had been tumultuous and troubled.

He shook his head. He’d not thought on these things for many years. They mattered not anymore. Who would dare step forward and claim him an illegitimate heir?

Kylo reached over his wife’s shoulder and clasped hands with Lord Calrissian. “My lord, you are most welcome to Exegol. Bespin will always have an ally in the House of Ren.”

Lando had a look of shock on his dark face. “Kylo… you… You see me?” he whispered.

Kylo’s smile was slow and genuine. “Aye. My sight returned to me the day after I took a wife. I believe you could say that this marriage has opened my eyes.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, Lando’s own eyes turned a bit glassy at the surprising news. He blinked quickly and smiled that blinding white smile of his.

“And this must be Lady Ren,” Lando said as he bowed and took Rey’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

Kylo made the introductions. “Lady Rey of Exegol, the Devil’s Mistress, this is Lord Calrissian of Bespin.”

“I have heard the tales of her fierceness and beauty throughout the provinces. The rumors have proven true, I see. Though I have many times puzzled, Ren, that you would align yourself with the likes of Plutt.”

Rey stiffened in his embrace as Lord Calrissian inspected her closely.

Kylo gave her a gentle squeeze before saying, “You are fortunate my lady has chosen to leave her sword abovestairs. She does not take kindly to insult.”

Lando’s smile turned smooth. “I mean no insult, my lady. I’ve come to see for myself what sort of woman has stolen the heart of the Devil.” He stepped back with a slight bow. “Perhaps I shall have the pleasure of a private conversation with her later this eve.”

“My lady may grant you a private audience, if it please her.” Kylo looked at the people behind Lando. “You have brought a large gathering with you.”

“Aye,” Lando turned and held out his hand. A young woman with thick dark braids and bronzed skin stepped forward. “My daughter, Lady Jannah.”

Lady Jannah bowed her head slightly and smiled. Rey bid her good day and Kylo greeted her with a nod. He’d not spent any time in Lady Jannah’s presence, so her personality was a bit of a mystery to him.

“I’ll admit our visit holds a two-fold purpose. I was certain Sir Vicrul would be here.” Lando swept the bailey with a keen eye. “I have an urgent matter to discuss with him.”

Kylo nodded, knowing very well what Lando wanted from his brother. “Sir Vicrul had a critical task to attend. He shall join us very soon.”

“Ah,” Lando’s expression lightened and he turned to dismiss his guard. The men who stayed were familiar to Kylo. Lord Calrissian gestured to them. “You remember Brendol, the Younger, of Arkanis and Sir Dameron of Yavin. Sir Dameron has recently won his spurs.”

“Welcome,” Kylo nodded to Hux’s brother and Sir Dameron. Both men went into training with Calrissian after Kylo had left the man’s company for gold and glory on the tournament circuits and the fields of battle. 

Kylo was pleased Calrissian had come for a visit. For the first time in his life, he said, “Come. Enjoy the hospitality of my hall.”

He stepped aside allowing the party to pass. He took his wife’s arm and he smiled down at her, noticing she was still anxious. Lando suddenly grabbed his face and kissed both his cheeks, and enveloped him in a tight embrace. When he pulled away, he ruffled the hair Rey had spent so many moments arranging before their guests’ arrival.

“Oh, hell fire, Lando! Not in my own keep!” Kylo twisted out of the way and Lando’s laughter boomed across the bailey.

“There’s the rascal who used to terrorize my halls,” Lando said with a grin.

Now that the formalities had been observed, the blessing of sweet familiarity erupted around them with voices in greeting and laughter taking place. Hux was getting similar treatment from his older brother. Sir Dameron chatted with Lady Jannah and her maids.

Lando had latched eyes on Rey once again, gaze turning speculative. “After I saw what Plutt had done to Fin—”

“My lord!” Kylo interrupted with all haste. Lando was about to reveal the horrors Rey’s brother had suffered. Kylo did not wish for her to learn the extent of the damage wrought on Finn, nor to relive them herself. “Let us not speak of the past.” He gave a subtle shake of his head to warn Lando.

“Finn?” Rey asked, glancing between them.

“He was a loyal and fierce knight. I was proud to have trained him up. But I was most surprised to hear of his untimely death. I offer my condolences, Lady Rey.”

Rey nodded, casting her eyes to the rushes. Kylo reached for her, wanting to offer comfort, but a commotion from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He couldn’t help the shocked words that fell from his mouth.

“Great God of the saints!”

Sir Vicrul had made his entrance back into the great hall. The man had donned a dark blue tunic so fine and pristine, Kylo felt underdressed for the occasion. As his brother stalked across the clean rushes on the stone floor toward them, others familiar with Vicrul’s more common look of stained and well-worn gambeson and fraying hose stopped to gape at the man.

And… Kylo sniffed the air. The man had bathed! He’d never been in Vic’s presence when he’d smelt this fresh. His face had been scrubbed so clean, his skin glistened like the sun glaring off the waters of the sea.

Had Kylo known it would have taken this particular type of visit to incite Vic’s cleanliness, he’d have invited Lord Calrissian a long time ago.

Kylo did his best to contain his smile. “Brother,” he greeted Vic as if nothing was amiss. “Our esteemed guest has journeyed to Exegol with the specific intent of meeting with you.”

Vic clenched his bearded jaw and bowed stiffly toward Lando. “My lord.” 

“Sir Vicrul of Abraxas. We meet again.” Lando stepped up to his brother and narrowed his eyes on him. Vic stood uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the older man’s gaze, clasping his hands behind his back.

“I have brought the lady Jannah along with me.”

“I had observed her there among your party upon your arrival.” So meek. Kylo was enjoying Vic’s discomfiture and had to bite back a smile.

“I see. And do you mean to go and greet your intended?”

Vic’s eyes flicked over to Rey when he heard her sharp gasp. The man heaved a slow breath. “Aye. When the time is fitting.”

“The time is now,” Lord Calrissian said in a voice that brooked no contest.

“Now?” Vic barked.

“She is of age. You plan to make your home here for the foreseeable future, until such time as I draw my final breath, wherein you shall step into the role of Bespin’s lord as my heir, since God saw fit to only give me daughters. The time is now to take her to wife and sire a few grandsons that I may hold in my arms before I am too old. You will wed her within the sennight. Have I made myself understood?”

Vic’s fate had been sealed long before now. Lando had chosen Vic as his heir when Vic had fought so valiantly at Crait. Lando had seen Vic’s value as a knight and admired the man’s skill. Vic was a second son of Abraxas and had no title or lands of his own. Lando’s estate was wealthy and had no need of a hefty marriage bargain, he only had need of the right man to take his place and he’d given his daughter Jannah to Vicrul to wed.

Now, however, Vic looked as if he was about to choke on his own tongue.

“We are to host a wedding, my lady.” Kylo raised his eyebrows at Rey.

Rey frowned at Vic. “Why is it he looks so unhappy?” she asked.

“Unhappy?” Lando piped, gesturing with an open hand. “The man’s overjoyed. He’s about to wed. And he is going to go court my daughter properly because he has avoided it these past four years. Am I right, Sir Vicrul?”

Vic’s polished cheeks reddened further. “Aye, my lord. I shall see to it directly.” Vicrul made a halting bow and a clumsy turn toward the ladies in the center of the hall. His big hands clenched and released the whole journey there.

Kylo, Rey and Lando watched on in silence as Vic approached his lady. Now that the matter had been brought to his attention, Kylo wasn’t sure why Vic had been so slow to act on that next step in his betrothal to Lando’s daughter. Vic was usually open and unhindered in his thinking and talking, but he’d been ever reticent on the matter of Lady Jannah.

Truth be told, Kylo couldn’t have done without Vic these past years and was thankful to have had his aid.

“Shall we send for his family to attend the ceremony?” Lando asked.

“Nay. Vicrul is not overly sentimental, nor is he fond of his parents. I daresay a letter shall suffice.”

Since Phasma’s death, there had been a falling out between Sir Vicrul and the house of Abraxas. But he was his own man, and had made his own way in the realm, and the severing of familial relations did not affect him overmuch.

“Well, now, my lady,” Lando turned to address Rey, “‘tis a grand fire in the hearth and I see a comfortable chair to set my old bones down in. Can I persuade you to join me for a time? I am in need of a short respite and a mug of ale and the companionship of a beautiful woman.” Lando held out his hand for her.

Rey trembled subtly at Kylo’s side.

“As I warned you early on, my lord, take care how you treat my wife. Her sword is sharp and her memory is long,” Kylo said as he kissed the back of her hand and encouraged her to take Lando’s offered arm.

Rey swallowed hard before her spine firmed and she grew a few inches taller. As she walked side by side with his old master toward the fire, Kylo’s heart swelled with pride that the man who was like a father to him would get to know his excellent wife. Lord Calrissian was a hard man, but underneath, he was tenderhearted. Lord Ren had inherited that same failing from his master.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

Rey had grown somewhat comfortable around the men of Exegol’s keep. The knights in her husband’s employ, the smithys and the tradesmen that frequented the bailey with their weekly wares. But these new men and this Lord Calrissian unnerved her, unraveled her carefully crafted courage as if she’d weaved it of nothing but air and water.

She caught a glimpse of Lord Ren greeting the other guests in his hall. He would be no help to her now.

Lord Calrissian was a powerful man and a powerful lord. She knew he had no regard for her stepfather. Did that same distaste carry over to her?

His expression gave nothing away, but served to frighten her all the same. He shifted two chairs very close together before he indicated that she be seated first. As she settled, he reached behind and gathered his fine cape to arrange it in his chair before he sat. He stared into the fire for a bit and Rey watched the light flicker over his dark skin.

There were likenesses, she found, in Lord Calrissian’s manner that matched that of her husband’s. A learned thing, she supposed, spending so many years in his presence. Just as Hux had picked up some of the same traits being in Lord Ren’s presence since he was a small boy.

Too soon, Lord Calrissian’s dark eyes alighted on her. She hid her trembling hands in the folds of her gown.

“Why did you wed him?”

Her mouth fell open and she turned to look for Kylo. He was talking to the knights in Lord Calrissian’s company. Hux was at his side, puffing his chest out and trying to make himself look taller.

Why had she wed him? “In truth,” she said, returning her attention to Lord Calrissian, “I would not have wed him if I had been given the choice. He offered, Lord Plutt accepted.”

Lord Calrissian leaned closer, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair. “You most assuredly changed your mind when you learned you would soon be a wealthy woman.” He frowned over at her, eyes ever alert.

“Nay. I nearly begged my stepfather to marry me off to anyone but Lord Ren.”

“And why is that?”

Rey flicked her eyes up at the man before returning them to her lap. “On account of him having… horns.”

He laughed. Heartily. Deeply. He’d thrown his head back and all that hard exterior had melted away with his mirth. Rey smiled tentatively.

“That boy has horns. He keeps them well hidden.”

“Indeed,” Rey said with a small laugh of her own.

“And his secret? When you wed, he was blind. What thought you of that?”

“I was glad of it.”

Lord Calrissian’s expression darkened quickly. “Come again?” he growled.

She shouldn’t have spoken it. But honesty was all she had.

“I was glad that he could not see how ugly his new wife was.” She swallowed back thick tears that suddenly clogged her throat. She shrugged and tried to smile, knowing things were different, that she looked well enough. That Lord Ren was pleased with her. Her deep sense of self doubt had yet to be obliterated. Perhaps it would always linger with her.

“Who told you such a thing?” he asked, incredulous.

Rey’s face slackened. Was her ugliness not obvious for him to see for himself? “My stepfather always said—”

Lord Calrissian took her hand. Pulled it to his lips. “My lady. Your stepfather is a blackguard and a liar and I shall kill him for you. You need only say the word.” He placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

Rey blinked back tears. “I should like the pleasure myself, my lord.”

“Indeed,” he said, releasing her hand. “You are as fierce as the rumors foretold. No wonder your husband does not wish to see you upset. The Devil’s Mistress would likely call down fiery rain on the whole province.” He smiled at her. And what a smile! He was a particularly handsome man.

She sat up a little straighter in her chair. “If it please me to do so, my lord.”

He clapped his hands, letting loose another hearty laugh.

After a few moments in silence, his brow raised and he asked, “What happened when he regained his sight? I confess I am still amazed.”

So many things happened. But she decided that Lord Calrissian did not need to know them all. She could see that he cared deeply for Lord Ren, and he only had a care for her husband’s welfare. Their purposes were not at odds with each other, but of the same accord.

He noticed her hesitation. “Come, now. Humor an old man. I’ve been sent by my family to learn about the woman who tamed the Devil. They shall not let me rest until they have wrung every detail from me. My wife, Elle, loves a good romance tale. Or perhaps I should take you and Lord Ren along with me when I return to Bespin. You should see the place where your husband spent his formative years, my lady.”

“I should like that.”

There was no time to say more, as the rest of the party joined them by the fire.

“Hux, fetch more chairs and wine for our guests,” Lord Ren ordered.

Rey stood to do his bidding, but he stopped her with his hand on her arm. “I shall see how the meal is coming along.”

“Nay. Hux has all in hand. Sit with me,” Kylo said.

She started to protest, but Lord Ren pulled her into his lap once he’d adjusted his chair to his liking, farthest to the right of the fire, so his back was to the wall and his eyes were on everything else. They watched as their guests were seated and served.

“You see how Hux favors his brother?” he asked in her ear.

“Aye, they look strikingly similar.”

He nuzzled her hair. “Did it surprise you to meet Vic’s betrothed?”

Rey’s eyes found Vic, positioned away from everyone else, talking with his lady. She held back a smile. “Aye. She is very beautiful. And I’ve never seen him so clean, nor has he ever smelled so nice.”

Kylo snorted. His quiet belly laughs shook her.

Rey’s smile sobered when she found that they were being watched closely by Lord Calrissian’s knights. She tried to sit up a little better in Kylo’s lap.

“The scenery in Exegol is very fine,” the man called Sir Dameron said while looking at her.

Kylo went still and taut beneath her. “Aye. ‘Tis the fairest you shall ever see, but you’d do well not to stare at it too long,” her husband said with a growl.

Lord Calrissian laughed loudly and the rest of the men grinned.

What a fearsome grouping of warriors. Finn had told her stories of Lord Calrissian, but the stories of Lord Ren were always more fearsome. People outside the keep did not think of the Devil of Exegol without crossing themselves in fear. As fierce as these men may or may not have been, none were as dangerous as the man in whose lap she sat.

She laughed to herself.

“What have you found so humorous, my lady?” Kylo breathed into her ear.

She turned to whisper into his. “I was thinking that I love you and that no one else could boast of spending an evening upon Lord Ren’s lap.”

He pulled away to look into her eyes. “Just you.”

“Oh, do have a care for us poor, unwed knights,” Sir Dameron piped up from across the circle.

“You are so right, Sir Dameron,” Kylo said, glancing up at his guest. “I shall have a care. You may bed down in the stables for the duration of your stay.”

Kylo rose then from his seat as everyone had a laugh at Sir Dameron’s expense.

“Come, let us enjoy the meal my wife has had prepared for your arrival.”

Raucous laughter wove through every conversation as they feasted and danced into the night.

⁜ ⸎ ⁜

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Took me a while!
> 
> Let me know what you think of this new development!


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